I Want Revenge
by jammie.donut
Summary: When Cammie Morgan's heart is crushed by Zachary Goode, the guy who got her pregnant, she isn't like most girls. She doesn't sit on the floor and cry. No, she vows revenge. And to get it… she learns to kill.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: When Cammie Morgan's heart is crushed by Zachary Goode, the guy who got her pregnant, she isn't like most girls. She doesn't sit on the floor and cry. No, she vows revenge. And to get it… she learns to kill.**

**Cammie's POV**

_Finally! _I could leave!

The mission had gone so successfully that it was cut two weeks shorter than we all expected. It was such a glorious feeling, when the plane had finally touched down. I had been so excited to be able to see Zach again, only to remember that the CIA wanted me back at base, to fill in more paperwork. And only just now had I finished my full account of what happened.

Sure, the job of a spy had its moments when we're getting the thrill of the mission; of defeating the enemy and coming back home alive, but most of the time it was filling in boring reports, wondering when your next mission would be.

I ran down the stairs of the building and flew into the nearest cab, not really caring that I was knocking a poor woman out of the way as I dived into the taxi. It only took me a few minutes to get home, when it would usually take at least twenty – I had offered to pay extra if the driver went extra quickly. The only thing that was in my mind, the whole journey, was the happy thought of meeting Zach again.

"Here you are," the driver said, pulling up outside my house. He held out a hand for the money and I shoved a roll of bills into his hands, before dashing into the house.

I was home again!

The hallway was dark and instantly I was suspicious. It was a tradition for us to leave the lights on when either one, or both, of us was at home. It was past midnight – surely he should be home by now! Perhaps Catherine found our home after all and she had taken Zach…

No, there was definitely a noise coming from somewhere above. On my guard, I crept cautiously up the stairs and across the landing, my hands in a ready fighting stance, ready for if anyone jumped out at me. The gun which I hid in my boots was now slotted into the space in my belt, prepared for if I had to use it on someone. The noise became louder as I neared the master bedroom, and suddenly, I realised what the noise was – the muffled sound of a girl moaning.

The door of the bedroom was open and I peered in, terrified of what I might see.

I had to force myself not to gasp.

There was Zach. But with him, or rather, underneath him, was a girl, who I soon recognised as Tina. Both were stark naked and they were having sex. From Tina's victorious expression, I could tell she was having the time of her pathetic, miserable life. But the worst thing was Zach's face. He looked like he was in heaven too. He looked happier than I had ever seen him before, with his sloppy smile that he usually reserved only for me.

My boyfriend was cheating on me.

How could he?! I trusted him with my whole heart and he's just ripped it into shreds. My whole life was dedicated to him. He was pretty much one of the only reason I woke up every morning to live. I might as well kill myself now he's not mine anymore. How long had he been cheating on me for? Was this the first time, or has he had sex with hundreds of other girls while I'm solving some major crime in another country?

Silently, I withdrew from the doorway and padded back down the stairs, tears spilling from my eyes. I let myself out of the house and started walking somewhere, anywhere… anywhere away from Zach. I knew my anger would come later, but for now, I was dejected. My heart had been crushed and left in the dust. My tears had been running down my face so the makeup (which I had put on especially for Zach) had smudged and each droplet that landed on the floor looked black. Not that it looked much different from everything else. All around me I saw grey. Everything looked so dull and saturated now that Zach wasn't there for me.

He wasn't there for me anymore.

He'd meant so much to me, but I guess I meant nothing to him. I thought we were perfect together. When we were together, we never had fights, only lame arguments that had us laughing or kissing a few moments later. What happened? What did I do wrong?

Then my anger washed over me, like I knew it would at some point. I thought about how he had used me. He pretended to love me, he said he would kill himself rather than hurt me. Then why wasn't he dead? He had insulted me, and if I hadn't come home early, I probably would never know of his betrayal.

I would go to the ends of the earth for him; I would go to the ends of the universe. But not anymore. Why should I keep quiet and put up with it? Why couldn't I confront him now? I sprinted back towards the house and up the stairs. I was making enough of a racket to alert him and Tina of my presence but I didn't care. I didn't want to hide. I wanted to fight until Zach was a pool of blood on the floor.

"Hi Zach," I said venomously, leaning against the doorway of 'our' bedroom and flipping the light switch. Tina was nowhere to be seen, but I should have expected that of them. Zach wouldn't want me to find out the truth.

"Um, hey Cammie!" he said nervously, faking a happy grin. "What are you doing here?"

"Busting you," I replied coldly. "Where's Tina?"

"I don't know," he almost bit his lip. "Do you need her?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Yes. I need her as proof that you've been cheating on me."

"I haven't!" he argued.

"Come on out, Tina!" I called loudly and Tina meekly grabbed her clothes and ran from the room, looking petrified of my face.

"Look, Tina and I weren't doing anything," he insisted.

I bristled with anger. "Don't lie to me, Goode!"

"I didn't!" he protested, but he received a sharp kick to the groin.

I screamed, "OH DON'T YOU TRY THAT INNOCENT VOICE ON ME, GOODE! I KNOW ALL YOUR LITTLE TRICKS! WE ARE OVER! DO YOU HEAR?! _OVER!_"

He looked shocked. "We're over… for real?"

I slid down the wall into a sitting position and tried to blink away my tears, but they rolled down my cheeks anyway. "Yes. I can't believe you did that to me, Zach. I trusted you, I believed you and I loved you, and this is what I get? Zach, I loved you and I still do, but I can't trust you anymore. I can't let you take advantage of me like that. I can't let you cheat on me and then just give in to you again the next day."

"Gallagher Girl," Zach said softly, shifting closer towards me, leaning down with a painfully cute expression. I wanted to forgive him so much. But then he draped an arm over my shoulder and it was too much. I quickly remembered how he'd hurt me. I flipped him so he was lying on his back, looking dazed. I stomped on his chest.

"Never touch me again," I threatened.

Then I walked away from him, though it hurt me so much.

**[One month later]**

**Zach's POV**

"Zach, where is she?" Bex asked me, before I could enquire as to why she was standing on my doorstep, dripping wet and looking frantic.

"Where's who?" I asked, chewing on a pizza.

Bex exclaimed, "Cammie, of course! Haven't you heard? She's missing!"

"Missing?!" I gasped. "Cammie's missing?!"

"Yes," Bex insisted, glaring at me, "and it's your fault, Zach."

"How is it my fault?" I asked defensively, although we both knew the answer to that. I feel so guilty about the whole thing. I had cheated on Cammie and I'd never forgive myself for it, even though I was drunk at the time. Being without Cammie was like being in the desert, all alone and without water; you're so thirsty you can't do anything and you start hallucinating that there's water all around you, but they're just mirages, they're not really there. I loved her so much that every time I saw her, or even imagined I saw her, it was like a dagger stabbing me through the chest. It was so painful to spend three hours visiting her when I went, watching her going through so much pain.

"She went missing yesterday," Bex repeated, ignoring my question. "She isn't at Gallagher, she isn't at any hotel in America and she definitely isn't in this house, right?"

"Not in this house," I agreed, before the whole situation actually started to sink in properly.

Cammie was gone. She was missing; she was who knows where in the world… She could be anywhere. She could even be rotting in one of Catherine's cells right now. The thought panicked me so much that I had to physically take deep breaths for a few moments, calming my heart rate.

"Liz has been crying non-stop for three hours. I never knew she had so many tears," Bex filled me in as we headed towards the CIA base, where they had the best equipment for us to search her with. "Macey is curled up in her bedroom, refusing to take any food or anything. The press are already onto her and they were standing outside her window. She yelled at them to fuck off. She probably doesn't even care that she'll be on the front page of every magazine for that tomorrow."

"What about you?" I asked hesitantly.

She sighs. "When I find that girl, I'm going to punch her face in until you won't even recognise it anymore. She swore she'd never leave us again and she broke her vow. I don't think I can ever trust her again because of that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter! Oh and Disclaimer? I don't know why I'm even bothering. My message is always the same: I DO NOT OWN GALLAGHER GIRLS.**

**Thank you.**

**[Eleven years later – the kid is ten years old, but Cammie **_**was **_**pregnant for nine months so…]**

**Cammie's POV**

"Is it done?" Catherine asked coldly.

"Yes," I replied smoothly. "Reiner is dead."

"Good," Catherine said emotionlessly. Then she stared at the two guards who accompanied me into the office. "You may leave."

The two guards left promptly, stumbling over their feet to get out of the room hastily. New Circle members were always like that. Having Catherine Goode speak to you was an honour, a privilege that rarely ever happened. It happened to me. Every day, she would call me into her office and we'd talk. We could talk about anything easily, because talking to one another came easily for us two. We never had any awkward moments when we talked, unless we came across the subject of… of Zach.

After Zach cheated on me with Tina, I went insane. For the next month, I shut myself up in my room, back at Gallagher. I closed all the windows and kept all the blinds down. I spent all my time in the dark, hugging and rocking myself backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards all day long, with glassy eyes and messed up hair. I only wore black unflattering clothes, as though I was mourning someone's death, and I was. I was mourning my own death, because Zach had killed me inside. I had loved him more than anything, more than my friends, more than Mom, more than Dad, and even more than life. But he had thrown it all away.

Everyone thought I had gone crazy. I wasn't. If I was crazy, I would have shot myself a long time ago. But if I had shot myself, then who would have got revenge on Zach? _That _was the reason I was still sane. _That _was the reason I was still alive. I still had something to do.

At first, my three best friends came round to check up on me every few days. They would sit on a bed and watch me. They would try and open the blinds, but I would scream until they shut it. The worst thing, though, was they would try and talk to me slowly, as though I was in a coma, as though I was a child or as though I was exceptionally stupid.

Macey was the first to stop seeing me, after only a week. Her dad was the Vice President after finally winning the election and she was now a busy businesswoman, too busy to visit a mentally disordered friend of high school. She said that right now, her business was the most important thing to her. Liz stopped visiting after two weeks. She and Jonas were having a baby (I know, we all thought Zach and I would be the first parents) and she thought that maybe I would stress out the baby with my mad rocking. Bex stopped after three weeks, because she had missions to go to and everything. She said if she visited me, she'd have to stay up until twelve, doing paperwork, and she needed her 'beauty sleep'.

The Director phoned up, once, demanding why I wasn't at work. He left dozens of messages, but I never picked up. In the end, Mom had to tell him I was sick, mentally. The word spread through the CIA until it reached Zach. He even had the nerve to come and visit me. But I just ignored him, knowing he would soon go away like everyone else. There was no point in me acting al nice, because he wasn't going to stay with me, no matter how long I played a cover. He stayed for a full three hours but then decided I wasn't worth his time anymore. He left and never came back.

Mom even called a mental hospital to come and pick me up. That was when I realised there was no one left for me, not even Mom. I told the mental hospital to go away, only with worse language than that. I pulled out a gun I had always kept hidden under the bed and told them if they stepped one foot into the room, I'd kill myself. It was an empty threat, but they couldn't trust a 'mentally traumatic' woman.

Over the next few nights, I started puking into the toilets. I searched up on the computer the various differences I had noticed about myself, but they all led back to one thing. I took out the pregnancy tests that Macey had left in the room for the next generation of Gallagher girls as a joke/surprise.

I was pregnant.

It must have been at least one month and a half. One month, I had been lying in my room and for half a month, I'd been on my mission in Cuba. This left me with two reasons to live. Knowing Mom was going to find some sort of way to take the gun away from me so they could drag me to the mental institution, I had to work quickly. The idea came to me one day, when I was doing my usual rocking back and forth, which no longer was a cover to get everyone to think I was mad. It calmed me down and it helped me think clearly.

I would join the Circle.

I knew it was a crazy idea, but I knew it was one of the two options left. It was either that or starves myself on the streets. Or become a prostitute, which would never happen. Besides, I knew Catherine would probably be happy to strike a deal with me.

Switching on my laptop for the first time in ages, I began searching for the Circle on the net. I soon found a guy who had been paid by the Circle to tell them some secrets. He had posted this whole record on his blog. Presumably he was now dead, but was still there. Once something was on the internet, it was impossible to get rid of.

Part of that record included the Circle's email address – or more specifically, Catherine's. She replied to my email at once, giving me a chance to become a Circle member. She explained the good things about being an assassin: you learn how to be cold and emotionless, which I needed right then.

Back in the present, I asked lightly, "So how's Morgan?"

"Oh, she's been the most delightful ten year old girl ever!" Catherine sighs happily, a part of her that only I am allowed to see. "No one could ask for a better granddaughter."

"Well, I hope she grows to be as brilliant as her grandmother," I remark fondly, and Catherine gives a modest chuckle.

It's hard to believe that I was once her arch enemy, that we were fighting each other and risking our lives for a stupid alumni disc. If the same thing had happened now, I would have given it to Catherine in a heartbeat. Catherine was there for me when everyone else wasn't, and she didn't kill me like I thought she would. She waited for me to tell my story first, which I did. When she found out that I was pregnant, she jumped up. I had presumed it was in anger, but it wasn't; it was out of happiness that she was going to be a grandmother. Through Morgan, my ten year old daughter, Catherine and I have formed a bond, much stronger than the one I had with Mom. Mom hadn't told me her whole lifeline, but Catherine had trusted me with every secret, and I had done the same. She could empathise with me, because she's pretty much been through the same thing as I have.

When Catherine was about eighteen or so, she became pregnant with Zach. She got kicked out of Gallagher and was disowned by her rich parents. Sooner or later she had turn to the other side of the law – it was the only way Zach would survive. She became an assassin, and she very soon rose to the top of the chain. She _did _have feelings, she _did _feel guilty about killing people, but she did it because there was no other way forward. Then when Zach was turning from a little boy into a teen, he abandoned his mother, just like he abandoned me.

"Did you take her to school?" I asked Catherine, remembering my beautiful daughter all dressed up in her school uniform.

Catherine rolled her eyes and looked at me, the word '_seriously?_' etched on her facial expression. "Of course I did, silly! Did you seriously think I'd forget to take my _granddaughter _to school?"

"Alright, alright," I laughed, holding my hands up in surrender.

Catherine's smile vanished as she seemed to remember something. She said quietly, "Morgan is ten now. She's clever enough to notice that her friends don't live in an underground base. It's only a matter of time before she'll blab it to her friends, who'll tell their parents, who'll tell the CIA. Perhaps you should take a break. Have some fresh air, Cammie. Live outside for a while as a… sort of holiday, if you like…"

At that moment, I burst out laughing, "A holiday! Like that will ever happen!"

Catherine remained perfectly serious. "I mean it, Cammie. You need a holiday. You've been working non-stop for ten years. You're out doing jobs more often than not and your daughter misses you. She hasn't spent any quality time with you and she's starting not to trust you anymore."

My smile and laughing demeanour dissolved instantly. I blinked, still trying to wrap my head around what she just said. "You're giving me a… a holiday?"

"Yes, why shouldn't I?" Catherine replies, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Catherine," I start carefully, "we both know that I don't really take holidays, right?"

"I know that well enough, my daughter," she nods, referring to her pet name for me. She likes to think of me as her actual daughter. "But you really must stop being such a workaholic."

"Why?" I demanded, my voice turning slightly hysterical. "Why should I start taking holidays? You do realise that work is one of the main reasons why I'm still sane, don't you?"

"I know that, but one day you're going to be too old to get out of your bed every morning to fight and to kill," Catherine stared at me sadly. "What are you going to do then? Let go of your sanity? No! You have to stop moping around and start living life to its fullest. I was just like you until you came along with your unborn baby. It was because of you and her that I decided to start opening up a bit more, and you should do the same."

"You always said work comes first," I pointed out.

Catherine retorted, "That's only because I'm bitter and old. You've got your whole life to live!"

"But-"

"No buts," Catherine said, in her business-like tone. "You _will _have a holiday for a full month and you _will_ spend your time bonding with your daughter! Understood, Agent Morgan?"

"Yes, boss," I sighed miserably.

She leant forward and put a hand over mine in a motherly gesture, saying softly as she looked into my eyes, "Trust me on this one, ok, my daughter?"

"Fine," I mumbled, standing up and getting ready for my entrance back into the rest of the world. I may be nice and emotional to Catherine, but to everyone else, I still had to be the hard-core, strict woman everyone else knew me to be. Before I left the room, I turned back and asked, "Catherine, can you promise one last thing?"

"Yes?" she raised her eyebrow expectantly.

"If I get the chance, I can kill Goode."

"That," she cracked into a smile, "we can arrange for."

**Zach's POV**

As Bex and Grant walked down the steps of the plane towards us (Liz, Jonas, Macey and me) Macey shouted, "Welcome to New York, Bex and Grant!"

She was referring to the fact that during their six month mission, the CIA headquarters had moved to the Big Apple.

Grant called, "Did you get any luck?"

"Nah," Nick called back over the roaring engine of some other aeroplanes. "We still can't find her."

"We'll get there someday," Bex reassured all of us, when she saw our disheartened faces. "Don't worry. I've got a feeling Cammie's still alive at least, if that helps."

"Yeah, she could be alive, but that doesn't mean she's safe," Macey said with a pessimistic attitude. "It's been eleven years, Bex. She would be thirty in three weeks from now. She probably looks totally different from the nineteen year old girl we knew."

"She could be doing anything," Jonas added, equally as miserable.

"She could be married and living in a house with four kids in Australia," I sighed. "Or she could be camping with some secret unknown tribe of the Amazon."

"Cheer up!" Bex said brightly, before muttering to herself, "That girl is worse than dead when we find her." Then she slapped her happy smile onto her face again and said optimistically, "Come on! We've had some good times without Cammie, haven't we?"

There's a round of 'yeah's and 'I suppose so's and some nodding.

"There was that time in Cape Town," Bex prompted, which earned her a few giggles and chuckles. "And that time in Mexico City?"

"It would be more fun if Cammie was there with us," I said, which earned me louder 'yeah's and 'I suppose so's than Bex's point.

"Guys," Bex said seriously, "you can either cry about Cammie or you can act energetic and actually get somewhere. Now who's with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Cammie's POV**

"Hey, Morgan. How are you?" I asked cheerily, grinning at my daughter and using my cover – the one where I was like a normal mom, one who has emotions. She opened the door wider and let me into the hotel room. She'd grown since I last saw her, which was about two months ago. The missions of an assassin were much quicker than a spy's. Most only take one day or so, but I had been busy. It was one of the main reasons that I was where I was, one of the highest ranking members in the Circle.

Morgan crosses her arms over her chest and stares straight into my eyes with her green ones which looked so much like Zach's. "Mom, we both knows how I've been: missing you. Where have you been for the past two months? You know, you've only been with me a tiny part of my life. Most of the time, you've been doing other stuff."

"I'm sorry, darling," I leant down to her height. "It's just work stuff and my boss doesn't mind me staying busy."

Morgan glared at me. "Don't blame grandma. She said you don't have to be at work all the time and that the only reason you're here is because she told you to come. Why do you like work so much?"

"M," I start, using the nickname she gave herself after we spent a couple of days (I had felt slightly guilty about leaving her for work).

Morgan cuts me off before anything more can be said. "Is it that you don't want me?"

"Morgan, no! How could you say that?" I raise my voice, shocked. "I love you more than anything else in this world!"

"Yeah, right," Morgan drawled sarcastically, sounding a bit like Macey. "Well, I don't feel the same about you, Mom. I'm tired of you letting me down. I probably like Stinky Sammy more than I like you."

"But-"

"You're a terrible mother," she said, cutting me off again.

Tears sprang to my eyes. "Morgan…"

"If you want my trust back, you'll have to earn it," she announced.

I brightened slightly, an idea popping into my mind like a light bulb. "Morgan, how about living in New York for a couple of months, in an actual apartment?"

It would be risky for me – if anyone's still looking for me, that is, which is unlikely – but I was a chance I was willing to risk for my daughter's happiness.

"Are you serious?" Morgan squealed. "No work for two whole months?"

"Well, maybe a tiny bit, but only in school hours, I promise," I replied, feeling happy to see my daughter happy. "I'm really sorry and I know that I'm a horrible mother. This is my way of saying sorry for everything. And after two months, I promise I won't work on weekends and I'll come home every weekend."

"Thanks, Mom!" Morgan laughed, hugging me tightly, which surprised me. Nobody had hugged me this tight in a very long time, seeing as Catherine didn't really like physical contact and Morgan used to be a little girl with a weak grip.

**Zach's POV**

"It's no use," Liz throws up her hands in frustration. "I can't find any records of her anywhere!"

"Don't worry, sweetie," Jonas smiled at his wife of ten years. "Just keep searching. She's got to pop up somewhere."

"If you guys can't find her, then no one can," Macey sighs, holding her head in her hands.

I stood up angrily. "Yes, we can! I am _not _stopping until we find her, whether she's alive or not!"

"And if she's alive," Bex added, "then she'll be dead soon. When we find her, I'm going to pound her into the dirt."

"You love her really," Grant smiled at his wife. Bex and Grant had been married six years now, ever since we were all twenty four.

"Yeah, I do," Bex grinned back her husband, pecking him on the cheek. "We'll find something soon, I promise."

"You're right!" Nick shouts with excitement. Nick is Macey's new assistant in her business and they became engaged about a month ago. After he was kicked out of the army, he became a CIA recruit so he knew about the whole spy thing. "Look, is that her?!"

We all gathered around his computer, before gasping in astonishment. There she was. She was wearing a ginger wig and green contacts, but it was definitely her. It was a blurry CCTV footage of somewhere that looked like Rome, dated seven years ago. She was walking down the road, blending into the crowd so easily that I could hardly focus on her, but my determination to find her won over her talent of disappearing.

"Oh God," Bex whispered with a hand over her mouth, after Cammie had dissolved into the sea of people.

"Was that… was that really Cammie?" Macey asked quietly.

"It was," I nodded, looking determinedly at everyone else. This video has made us all feel more depressed than we had before we had watched it. Immediately, we begin typing away at our computers with renewed vigour. We spent the next nine hours searching and hacking frantically, but it's come to nothing. Just like that, Cammie Morgan had disappeared again.

I fished around in my pocket and pulled out the object I was looking for. It was a small box, and I opened it to reveal a diamond ring lying inside on a velvet cushion. I put it on, silently swearing to myself that I wouldn't take it off until I found Cammie. It would be a painful reminder of her, but I couldn't let myself slack off her now. Not when I felt so close to finding her.

Eleven years ago, I had the whole proposal ready. The candles were set, the table was decorated and the owner of the restaurant had been paid to keep the place on a strict invitation-only rule for that night. The rest of our friends from the CIA, from Gallagher and from Blackthorne were there, each one disguised differently and ready to cheer and reveal themselves if Cammie said 'yes'.

When I escorted Cammie in, she was amazed. She had never seen a restaurant look so love themed before and she loved it. She didn't realise at that point that it was all for her. We had sat down and ordered our meals and we had eaten about halfway through our food when I decided now was the right time. I pulled out the ring from my pocket and held it nervously underneath the table, when Cammie's phone ringed. It was the Director and he wanted her to go on a highly dangerous mission to Cuba right away.

But the worst thing is, if he hadn't called… I wouldn't have got wasted and drunk, worrying about Cammie and her 'highly dangerous' mission… then Tina wouldn't have convinced me to take her home… and Cammie wouldn't have seen me cheating on her.

We would be married.

**[5 days later]**

**Cammie's POV**

"Are you ready for your first day?" I asked Morgan as she came into the car.

She ignored my question and said, "Why are you wearing a wig and sunglasses?"

"Because…" I began improvising, "I like dressing up."

"Well, stop it," Morgan replied smoothly but in an ordering tone.

I looked at her, "Baby, I can't."

"Why?" Morgan demanded. I paused, but she glared at me until I said something.

I decided to tell her the truth… partly… because I've lied to her so much already and I don't want to cause anymore tension. "I don't want anyone to see my face. I'm paranoid."

"Don't be," Morgan comforted, "there's no one to be worried about."

"Oh trust me," I said before I could stop myself, "there is."

Morgan narrowed her eyes. "Who is it? Is this something to do with your job?"

"Yes…" I said slowly.

Morgan demanded, "What is your job anyway? It used to be funny when you used to make up stories about your job and you'd change your job every time. But now, I'm ten. I have a right to know what you work as, Mom. It's unfair to keep it from me."

"Fine, I'm a… manager," I lied finally, "of a cruise ship. I'm assigned to one of the ships that your grandmother owns. I sail with the passengers and welcome them to the ship and stuff. It's really good work. Catherine pays well, the passengers are, usually, calm and I get to enjoy going around the world."

"Oh," she sighed in disappointment. "I was hoping you'd turn out to be something cooler… like a spy or something. I mean, you're always obsessed with spies."

I laughed at the irony of what she had just said. "Well, I can tell you this: I am not a spy."

"Aw!" Morgan whined. "It would be much more exciting if you were."

"It would be exciting," I agreed, "but it would be extremely dangerous. Don't be a spy when you grow up, Morgan, understand?"

"I understand," Morgan retorted indignantly, "but I'm not making any promises."

I sighed as we pulled up in the school's stuffed parking lot. There were kids streaming around everywhere, ranging from five year olds clinging to their mothers to jocks and cheerleaders sitting on the bonnet of a car. It was in the middle of a semester and everyone seemed to fit into the picture, even if they were the sad loners all by themselves.

"Mom," Morgan snapped when I tried to take her hand in for comfort, "I'm fine. Just leave me alone; you're not helping. Girls like me never have their mothers hold their hands. I can deal with everything by myself."

"Alright, alright," I chuckled, holding my hands up in surrender as Morgan turned to run off. I grabbed her hand to remind her, "Just remember – our surname is 'Taylor'. So you're 'Morgan Taylor', I'm…" I searched for a name which wouldn't cause _too _much suspicion if Morgan slipped up, "…'Callie Taylor' and your grandma is 'Caitlyn Taylor'. Got it?"

"Got it," Morgan grumbled, jerking her arm away and walking towards the building. I sighed. I couldn't believe eleven years had passed so quickly. It seemed like only yesterday that Morgan was a small lump in my stomach. I couldn't believe how long it had been since I had contacted Bex, Liz, Macey, Mom and – obviously – Zach.

As I strolled back towards the car, I heard someone wolf-whistling behind me. I spun around to see a boy of about seventeen checking me out. His friends were all laughing beside him. I could have been by them in one second and flipped him onto the floor, instantly breaking seven bones, in another second. But I couldn't. The scandal I would cause would almost definitely reach the police, who would in due course, turn me over to the CIA. Closing my eyes to calm myself, I ignored their growing jeers and got into my car. I slammed the door and drove away, but not before giving them the finger.

**Morgan's POV**

"This is the new girl," the headmistress introduced me to a group of bored children, not even bothering with my name. "Please make her feel welcome."

Then he retreated away, leaving me to stand in front of the class. Feeling put in the spotlight (which I hated), I said, "Hey everyone. I'm Morgan Taylor."

I suppose changing my surname was a good idea after all. In my old school, I was called Morgan Morgan, and it was _not _funny. I had a hard time getting to the top of the popularity chain with that name and even if I didn't want popularity, like I did now, I would be teased about it and become the class loser.

"Well Morgan," the teacher smiled at me kindly, "why don't you sit next to Arianna? It's the only space left."

"Sure," I replied, my eyes travelling to whom she was talking about. The girl had blonde hair and brown eyes, though you almost couldn't see them through her thick rimmed glasses. She was scribbling down something with a pencil at lightning speeds, probably writing notes about some sort of lesson. Those around her didn't seem to notice her, or else they shrank away from her as though she had some sort of disease. It immediately popped into my head that she would be a good friend if I wanted to lie low. In my last school had tried being popular and decided I didn't like the attention and from watching others, I realised being the class freak wouldn't be much better. It was best to be invisible.

Once class had started and I realised no one was staring at the new girl anymore, I poked the small girl in the arm. "Hello? Excuse me?"

"Oh!" the girl jumped in her seat, as though only just realising I was there. Then she frowned slightly. "Hey, I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"Yeah," I replied, holding out a hand. "I'm Morgan Taylor. Who are you?"

"I'm Arianna Sutton," she shook it, before glancing around her furtively. "Um, I don't think you want anyone talking to people like me. It won't earn you much popularity."

"Well I'm not looking for popularity," I shrugged, brushing the warning off. Arianne looked surprised, but said nothing, so I continued, "So what're you writing?"

"Oh, nothing," she lied, trying to cover up her notepad. I snatched it from under her arm and started reading it. It was full of scribbled notes in a messy handwriting and read about… how to hack into the CIA files? Why would she want to do that?

"Uh… I can explain," she said hurriedly.

I laughed, before whispering (so no one else could hear), "Don't worry, Ari. I'm not going to rat you out. I just want to know why. I'll keep it a secret."

"Fine," Arianne said, excited that she could share a secret with someone. "I can't say anything else, but my mom and dad are looking for their long-lost friend and they're not really letting me help out. They won't even let me see a picture of her. I want to hack into the CIA's level ten clearance files to find out more about it."

"Wow, you must have some awesome parents," I said, awed. "My mom says she's a cruise ship manager and I don't even know who my dad is."

"So she's never around, did you say?"

Arianne looked thoughtful and I quickly brushed it off. There was something about this girl… Sure, she was geeky, but she was also aware of everything around her, just like I was. Mom was not around much, but when she was, I could always count on her to be fun. Every time she visited, she'd bring some sort of spy game with her, because she was obsessed with spies, even if she wasn't one. Once she brought home a set of coded messages and asked me to crack them. Once she brought home a set of wigs and contact lenses for me to practise 'disguising myself' with. And there was this one time when we spent three days just walking around on the streets and she'd ask me questions about strangers.

But Arianne had the same sort of air about her, except more. Right now, she looked like she was cracking a code. She looked like she had been taught to notice every detail and she knew how to defuse a bomb or something. She looked like a spy in action.

She would be such a fun friend to have.


	4. Chapter 4

**Cammie's POV**

"Hey M, how was school?" I asked as Morgan walked into the apartment, snatching an apple from the bowl on the table and chewing on it. That's when I realised there was a small girl behind her. When I took my first good look at her, I almost dropped my bowl in shock. Standing in front of me was an exact replica of Liz Sutton at age ten, only she had glasses like Jonas had and her eyes were shaped slightly differently. She had the same blonde hair, the same petite delicateness about her, and she had the exact same shade of brown eyes. But most startling of all, she didn't only look like Liz – she acted like her too. As she walked towards me to shake hands, she stumbled over the umbrella stand and mumbled a quick 'oopsy-daisy'.

I realised I wasn't wearing any disguises. I was just my usual self and I was standing in front of _Liz Sutton's _daughter. Damn it!

"School was great!" Morgan answered enthusiastically, gesturing to her friend. "Arianne, this is Callie, my mom. And Mom, this is Arianne Anderson."

"Hello, Arianne," I said, trying not to sound stiff and unnatural. There was the proof. _Arianne Anderson _– she had to be Liz and Jonas' daughter. "It's… nice to meet you. Any friend of Morgan's is a… friend of mine."

Arianne narrowed her eyes slightly at my hesitation, but didn't say anything. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs Taylor."

"Just call me Callie or Miss Taylor," I replied. "I'm not married."

"Sure," she nodded, glancing around the room expertly. She wasn't as discreet as Bex or Macey, but she was definitely not a totally normal citizen. She was too accurate, too calculating to be normal. And obviously, she was Liz's daughter. When she went back home, would she tell her mother all about Morgan and I? I wasn't ready for that chance. Morgan and I had to get away, no matter how much suspicion that would arouse, especially for Liz.

"So, uh… what's life like here in New York?" I asked, trying to get a conversation going to fill the awkward silence.

"Oh, it's fine," she replied casually, but her eyes were still darting around for clues to who I was.

Another silence followed, which I broke using he question I had been dying to ask. "Who are your parents?"

"Oh you wouldn't know them unless you were in the business," she brushed it off smoothly, "Liz and Jonas Anderson."

"It doesn't ring a bell," I lied, nodding my head. "What business?"

"Why are you asking?" Arianne asked back, answering my question with question.

"I can't let my daughter be friends with anyone I can't trust," I shrugged. "I had a knock up with my friends I thought I could trust before."

"What happened?" Arianne asked, interested.

I searched for something to say. "Um, well they cornered me… and… I don't like to talk about it."

Arianne gasped as she realised what I was hinting at. "You were raped?"

"Um… I…" I said uncomfortably, although inside, I was glowing. She had bought it, hook, line and sinker. "It wasn't… Yeah. I was."

Then Morgan said quietly, "So I'm the result of a rape?"

"No! Morgan-"

"That's the reason you have a gun hidden in your clothes at all times and two hidden in your suitcase," she interrupted and I almost put my head in my hands. Although the people of the USA were given the right to bear arms, hiding one in my clothes was a bit extreme and slightly suspicious. But what followed was even worse. "That's the reason you like your job more than you like me. I remind you of my horrible father."

"Morgan!" I exclaimed. "Don't say that!"

"It's true though, isn't it?" she stepped closer, looking at me with pain filled eyes.

"Um," Arianne said nervously. "Should I go?"

"Yes, thanks. I'll see you at school," Morgan said without turning around. We heard the door close softly as Arianne slipped silently from the room. The silence and tension between us was growing unbearable.

"Mom, why didn't you tell me?" Morgan asked.

"No, it's not what it looks like," I said desperately. Why, oh, why did I have to mention a rape?

"It is," Morgan continued. "Well, at least now I know."

"Morgan, you're not the result of a rape."

"I am, and we both know it," she insisted, even though I knew it wasn't true.

Without another word, she pushed past me and into her room. What a mess. Couldn't I have said anything else? Me and my rushed big mouth!

**Liz's POV**

"Hey, honey," I greeted my daughter, opening the door to let her inside; feeling relieved that she'd finally arrived home. I was getting worried; I thought she might've been kidnapped by someone. I was also slightly upset. She always came home right afterschool on Tuesdays, because it was the day I was allowed off work early to look after Arianne.

She looked cute, like always. The traits of her father were there, the prescription and shape of her eyes, but she mostly looked like me. That was one of the things Jonas loved about her, but to me, it wasn't such a good thing. I still thought our daughter was beautiful anyway, prettier than me, even though we were practically identical. Today she looked happy, but also worried, wearing an expression I wasn't used to seeing. She was even more alert about her surroundings than usual and it disturbed me a little. I could usually read her easily; although I was sure she'd learn to cover that up when she went to Gallagher.

"Hi, Mom," she replied, distracted and I had to prompt her by asking how school was. She suddenly brightened, as though remembering she had forgotten to tell me something. She said, "There's this new girl in my class. She's friends with me now."

"Oh, really?" I smiled. "Aw, I knew you could make friends!"

"Yeah, I was going to go to her house after school," Arianne said, "but she and her mom started fighting."

"What about?" I asked, interested. "Did she start hitting your friend?"

"No," Arianne shook her head. "She was interrogating about you and dad, so I asked why and she said she didn't trust people anymore, after she got raped by a friend."

"That's sad," I sympathised. "I should really meet up with her sometime. What's her name?"

"She's called Callie Taylor," Arianne shrugged. A panging thud hit my heart. Any name beginning with 'C' triggered a sort of mental breakdown. Jonas was all for giving Arianne Cammie's name, but I refused, arguing that Cammie's name couldn't be stolen by anyone, even our daughter. Besides, it would simply be too upsetting for me. But this name was even worse than usual. Not only did it begin with 'C', it also rhymed with 'Cammie'. Her surname, Taylor, was a unisex name, just like Morgan.

"Callie Taylor?" I repeated, almost in a daze. "And what's your friend called?"

"Morgan," Arianne said, making me freeze. Morgan? Did my daughter just say the name 'Morgan'? That had to be a coincidence, right? It was a highly unlikely coincidence, of a percentage of about 0.17%, but a coincidence, nonetheless. It couldn't be… Cammie… For it to be Cammie she would have a daughter, she would have been raped. Cammie would never let herself be raped.

"Um," I said quietly, disbelieving the unlikeliness of it all, "what do Callie and Morgan look like?"

"Well," Arianne started, oblivious to the ludicrous ideas I was having, "they're both average height for their ages… in fact, they're so average that I can barely remember Morgan's face, let alone Callie's." What? My heart skipped a beat. "Oh! Morgan's eyes were definitely green." That part was unnecessary to my evaluation. "Um… they both had dirty blonde hair. Morgan called it dishwater blonde." Cammie had named her hair exactly like that.

The coincidences were just too much! It had to be her!

"What's their address?" I asked desperately.

"I don't know!" Arianne exclaimed. "I mean, this is the first day!"

"Fine, what about her phone number? Have you got that?"

"Yeah, but-"

I jumped out of the seat I had taken at the kitchen table. I beamed at my very confused daughter and kissed her on the forehead. "Arianne, I love you!"

"Why?" she asked, but I was already out of the door, throwing the essentials in my handbag, such as a tranquiliser gun. Gallagher would've told me 'guns were the last resort' but I wasn't a field agent. Arianne followed me out of the kitchen, looking bewildered. "Where are we going, Mom?"

"Call Morgan," I ordered, not acting like a mother for the first time. Arianne did so and someone picked up on the other side. A girl, who sounded a lot like a young Cammie, said hello, but another voice, definitely a woman's, yelped 'No!' and abruptly ended the call. This was also suspicious, and it only gave me more reason to get there quickly.

I took Arianne's phone off her and started tracking the location of the other phone. Meanwhile, since I was a multi-tasker, I called Jonas, who was on speed-dial.

"Jonas?" I said.

"Yes, honey?"

"I know where Cammie is," I told him.

"WHAT?!" he yelled into the phone.

I agreed with them, "Yeah, I know. It's really unlikely, but I think I've got her. You can trace me there through my phone tracker. I can't waste any time waiting for you to tell the others."

"Alright," Jonas said. "Meet you there."

Then I hung up on him and got into the car. "Let's go, Arianne."

**Zach's POV**

"Zach, I need to tell you something!" Jonas exclaimed, running towards me from outside. "It's important."

"Sorry, I'm a bit occupied," I replied, presuming he was asking me something about what he should get for Arianne's birthday. "I think I've got a lead on Cammie."

"Yeah, well I think I've got a bigger lead," Jonas challenged me.

I shook my head, smirking. "Trust me – this is the biggest lead with had in ten years. I'm pretty sure I've got a bigger lead."

"Fine," Jonas crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he had already won. "You tell me your lead first."

"We've got another sighting of her in Rome and we think she was heading towards an old warehouse. We think from there, she went to wherever she was staying."

"I suppose that's a good lead," Jonas admitted in defeat, making me smirk more. Then he grinned and my smirk vanished as he said, "But I already know where she's staying."

"What?" I said in a low disbelieving voice, before shouting angrily, "Jonas, this isn't a joke! The love of my life is out there somewhere and you're still cracking jokes about it to my face."

"Grant, Bex, Macey and Nick don't think it's a joke," Jonas said as coolly as before, and as though on some sort of cue, the four of them walked in, flanking Jonas on either side.

"Fine," I snapped. "But if I find out this is just something to wind me up, I'm going to kill all of you."

**Cammie's POV**

"Morgan, I swear on my life," I said angrily for the billionth time, "I wasn't raped. I just said that because Arianne was asking something I didn't want to answer."

"If you weren't raped, then why can't you tell me who my dad is?" she argued.

"I just can't," I mumbled, a flicker of pain flashing on my face before I returned to my normal sterile expression. I used a clear voice when I said, "Look, if someone tried to rape me, I'm pretty sure I could handle them."

"Prove it," Morgan said defiantly. "Prove it then. I'll only believe you when I see you in actual combat."

I glanced at Morgan and I couldn't help the slightly smug expression I wore. "Sure. I just need someone to spar with."

Then we could both hear the sound of people sprinting up the stairs on the other side of the front door, except they didn't continue upwards. They stopped right outside our apartment and I heard two voices whispering, a girl and a woman's. I muttered to myself, "Speak of the devil."

"Whatever you do, do _not _open that door," I told Morgan, dead serious. Morgan nodded silently, though I could see she was burning to know who was behind it. I was worried that she was going to ignore me anyway and open the door, but I had to get packed and quickly. Running into my room, I started throwing in clothes into the suitcase. My heart wasn't pounding like it would have done eleven years ago. I was calm, as though I was about to kill someone and I was perfectly composed and ready for it. I was in business mode. I strapped a gun into my belt and got Morgan's suitcase packed too, before running back into the hall where Morgan looked tense. She seemed to be battling with her conscience about whether to let the people inside. I soon realised why. Arianne, her so-called friend, was ringing the doorbell and asking to be let in.

"Mom, it's just Arianne," Morgan whispered. "She's not some sort of mass murderer."

I simply shook my head. "Don't let them in."

"But-"

"No," I hissed as loudly as I dared, but when I saw her conflicted expression, I plastered on a kind face. "Come on; let's go out through the fire escape."

"But why's Arianne so dangerous?" she whispered as we headed towards the back door, which I had hidden behind a thick curtain.

"I'm not telling," I said, pulling the handle of the door. It was jammed. I tried again and again, becoming more and more frustrated and nervous. We could both hear the sound of someone picking the lock of the front door and I knew my options were running out. I sighed in defeat. Today had been an absolute disaster, and it wasn't going to get better. It was time to face what I'd been avoiding for eleven years.

Well, I hadn't exactly avoided Zach. Little did he know, I had spent my free time in the last eleven years to plan his death. I knew exactly which gun I'd use, the way I'd look at him coldly before I'd kill the trigger. I dreamed of it every day when I lay in bed, all alone instead of next to him. I hated him with all my heart. He treated me so badly when I had been honest the whole time. I thought he was my soul mate, but he left my soul in the dump. My whole world had revolved around him and when he destroyed our relationship; my world had hurtled off course. In that bleak month when I was alone, I had considered suicide many times… but I would remember the one promise I kept – I had to take him down first.

"Mom, it's stuck," Morgan pulled my hand away from the door before I could hurt myself. "We'll just have to confront them."

"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered to myself helplessly. "This can't be happening!"

"What can't be happening?" Morgan asked, but I ignored her. I latched open the window and gestured for Morgan to climb out of it. She stared at me as though I was crazy, but I insisted. Then she resolutely put her foot down. "Mom, I am _not _climbing out of the window, no matter what you say or do."

The front door swung open and I could hear Liz and Arianne cautiously treading around the kitchen, searching for me. I had virtually no time left so I did the first thing I could think of. I stepped into the kitchen, my eyes almost spilling over with tears at the thought of what I was about to do. Liz glanced up and her eyes lit up with happiness, which only made my heart break even more.

"I'm sorry, Liz," I whispered.

Then I aimed at her heart and shot.


	5. Chapter 5

**WOW guys. Thanks for all your support and everything. I LOVED all the reviews! Everyone, just calm it about Liz! She's wouldn't give up on life THAT easily, right?**

**Anyway… HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER! Read and enjoy!**

**Cammie's POV**

"Oh God," Morgan gasped, staring at me in horror, then at Liz's body, then back at me again. Her face was deathly pale, as though she had just seen a ghost, and her body seemed frozen into place. "What have you done, Mom? You've killed her."

"No," I whispered, even more shocked than Morgan for three reasons. A) I had shot my best friend from high school, the cute little face which will never help me get ready for a date again. B) Liz wasn't dead yet – I had hit her in the stomach rather than the heart, which gave her fifteen more minutes of agonizing pain rather than the quick death I had been aiming for. C) I, Cammie Morgan, had missed. Sure, the CIA called me 'the Chameleon' but the Circle had altered the nickname to suit my new status – 'the Killer Chameleon' or 'the Kill-Cham' for short. I had that title for a reason. In the assassination business, I had never missed a shot. My bullets always ended up in the right place… until now.

I should have shot again, in the right place, but some irrational part of me wouldn't – couldn't – let me fire again at the woman on the floor.

Arianne, however, wasn't as still as Morgan or I. She was shocked, yes, but more so, she was angry. With a battle roar, she flew towards me, looking determined enough to kill. She threw a punch towards my face, which I dodged easily by sidestepping neatly to the side. After a few more attempts at hurting me, she realised she wasn't going to help her dying mother this way. She grabbed a phone from Liz's purse and ran into the bathroom, while dialling a number. I heard the lock of the bathroom door click into place.

"Dad, where are you? Mom is… Mom's…" I could hear Arianne sobbing into the phone and I cursed. Picking up my gun, I rammed the door down before Arianne could say anything more. As I clicked the safety catch and took aim, I gave myself a moment to think of my life's morals. I was fine with killing incredibly rich businessmen who had committed some sort of crime and needed to be silenced, but a little girl with a soon-to-be dead mother? That was just cruel. I couldn't… I couldn't…

I shot.

But yet again, my hand was shaking too much and the bullet rammed above her heart instead. Arianne instantly went limp, which I ignored as I snatched the phone out of her hand.

"Arianne? Arianne, what's happening? I thought I heard a bullet! Arianne?" Jonas's frantic voice came through the receiver. I also heard some worried voices in the background. I threw the phone onto the floor and stomped on it hard, watching it break into little pieces. Jonas's voice was cut off in the middle of saying his daughter's name.

"Let's go," I said gruffly, taking hold of Morgan's small clammy hand.

"But…" Morgan protested, looking surprised, and even a little scared, at my abrupt change in character – from kind normal mother to cold evil murderer. "You just killed these two people. Are you just going to leave them there?"

"It's more important that we get out of here before someone comes," I replied, roughly dragging her towards the front door. "And someone will save them before they die anyway. I didn't really kill them."

"Why do you look like you're used to killing people? Doesn't it bother you that you simply took away someone's life?"

I chose not to say anything and tried to wipe the uncomfortable expression off my face. We ran down the stairs as we put on disguises (I had a ginger wig and sunglasses and Morgan had a hoodie hiding most of her face). Morgan tried to guess what my silence meant.

As we ran out of the building, a black SUV squealed and it pulled up outside of the building. Out of it came Jonas, looking exactly the same, even with the identical glasses, except he looked dead worried – probably because his wife and daughter were inside.

Then Grant stepped out seeming as much of a Greek god as in high school, except – if it were possible – even hotter with the leather jacket he was wearing now rather than the Gallagher uniform or the orange Blackthorne jumpsuit.

Grant held out a hand to help out Bex, who accepted the hand with her own. Something flashed in the sunlight and I realised it was a ring. They had to be engaged, because they kissed and Grant had no ring. Unless Bex was cheating on someone, which would never happen. Bex still had the exotic aura of an Egyptian princess. Her clothes hugged her really tightly and did things to her body which could only be pulled off by Bex.

Next out was a guy I didn't know. He was pretty hot and looked as badass as the rest of them, but I couldn't help thinking he was replacing me and jealousy bubbled within me. _You were the one who left them, _I reminded myself sternly. _So why are you jealous?_

Then Macey clambered out, still looking as though she belonged on the cover of Vogue with her glossy black hair and piercing blue eyes. She also had a ring… wait, Macey was married? Or was it an engagement ring? _I'll find out, _I told myself as I watched them.

Macey leaned down to talk to the one person still inside the SUV. She said something, before giving him a dazzling smile.

Oh God. My breath caught. There _he _was… Zach. He looked as gorgeous as ever with his penetrating green eyes and his amazingly soft dark hair. He smirked at Macey and said something back to her which I read as, _I was born ready, honey, _but I wasn't sure. It could have been _I was born for you, honey. _ But when Macey took his hand and squeezed it, I realised what was going on. Zach had a ring too which meant…

Oh my God. Macey and Zach were married.

I tried to feel happy for him and Macey but the only emotion I felt was anger. My blood boiled.

"Oh my God!" she shouted, staring at me in horror. "You're an assassin! Someone paid you to shoot them!"

Their heads jerked in our direction, especially Jonas's.

"Melanie," I laughed it off, managing to keep the nervousness out of my voice, "you've got the wildest of imaginations!"

They looked slightly unconvinced but seemed to let it go. They had more pressing matters to deal with.

**Macey's POV**

I screamed.

Lying unmoving on the floor in a pool of blood was Liz, one of my best friends of fourteen years. I heard an equally terrified squeal from the bathroom, where Bex was looking. That must be where Arianne was.

"Is she dead?" I whimpered, although it was highly unprofessional. I should've been checking for signs of breathing, but instead I was crying. I may be a spy, but sometimes being the owner of a huge fashion line rubbed off on me. I had to be overly dramatic in front of the cameras and it meant that it affected my spy career.

Zach felt for a pulse and sighed, relieved. "It's really faint. We have to get them to base or the nearest hospital straight away. We might only have five minutes or so."

Bex, Zach and Grant (being the strongest) carried Liz while Jonas and Nick carried Arianne. I just ran, clearing the way and holding the doors for the others. We didn't care about getting in the car – it would take too long, seeing as the hospital was down the street anyway – so we just carried them. Pedestrians screamed and hid their children's eyes from the gory bodies, but we had no time to pay them any attention. We dodged the crowds and even jumped onto the hood of a car at one point to avoid the hordes of people.

One little girl pointed at me and said "Mommy, look! It's Macey McHenry!"

But thankfully, her mother led her away and replied, "No, Ellie, Macey McHenry wouldn't be running with dead bodies."

The receptionist of the hospital shrieked when she saw two bodies with blood dripping everywhere. I flashed my CIA badge at her and ordered her to get Liz and Arianne into surgery straight away, even if it meant taking someone else's hip replacement operation or something. Tight-lipped, she nodded and showed us to a room rather than the usual process of calling someone.

Once Jonas's wife and daughter were safely in their operating theatres, surrounded by surgeons, I turned to the others. They all looked as shaken as I probably did.

"Do you think they'll be alright?" I asked the question that no one else dared to.

Nick put an arm around my shoulder as he spoke up, "I don't know. I guess it's up to fate now."

"I don't want them to die," Jonas whispered into his hands. "I don't know how… I don't know why anyone would do such a thing…"

"All I know," Zach said grimly, "is that redhead and that girl with the hoodie weren't there by coincidence."

We all agreed and Bex said, "Yeah, what are the chances of a woman and a girl coming out of a building talking about assassins while Liz and Arianne lie half dead inside the building?"

"That's where we've got to start," Grant said. "Did anyone get the number plate of their cab?"

"No," Nick shook his head. "We weren't around to see them get into a taxi. What about fingerprints inside the apartment?"

"That could work," Grant nodded in agreement. "We should do that. But we've got to concentrate on catching them first. It's quicker and easier to get answers that way. Then _after _we can do fingerprints."

Bex looked impressed that her hubby had finally said something clever after all these years.

"We can use CCTV footage of that street to find out where they went," Jonas perked up slightly, his face full of determination. "And when I find out who shot my family, I'll torture them until they don't remember the alphabet."

**Zach's POV**

I couldn't believe it. When I first heard that Liz knew where Cammie was, my heart soared like crazy. I was so determined to find her.

Now that Liz and Arianne were half dead, I needed to find her even more. It sucked that the only person who might have an inkling of an answer to my questions was half dead and would probably be stuck in a coma for weeks – and that was only if she pulled through at all. Then again, there _was _that woman and girl on the street.

Who were they and what were they to do with the love of my life? Surely it wasn't a coincidence that they had come out of the building just after Liz and Arianne were shot; especially seeing as the girl started screaming about the woman killing people.

Jonas tapped at the keys of his computer. Seeing as Liz and Arianne were down, the Director was allowing us to take some time off work to get to the bottom of the mystery. Jonas magnified the CCTV footage of the street where the mystery woman and girl were making a scene.

We followed their cab to the mall, where the two suspects walked around, looking at shops. It was like that Covert Operation back in Washington, where I first met Cammie. I was so crazy about her that as we watched the surveillance, my mind kept slipping. Every now and then, the woman on the screen became Cammie, with her beautiful hair and her gorgeous face. Then I'd remember we were looking at the potential killers of Jonas's family and I'd be sucked out of my daydream.

The suspects finally headed towards the toilets and we watched the doors of the bathroom for the next hour, but when they finally emerged, half an hour later, they looked totally different. Now the woman was wearing showy clothes (and _man _she looked almost as hot as Cammie!) and the girl was wearing a tracksuit. Their hair colours were also different and if we weren't professionals, we wouldn't be able to guess who it was.

Here, it was clear. We weren't dealing with amateurs. We could be onto something huge.

They split up; after the woman gave the girl some sort of instruction, meaning that we split into two groups too: Macey, Grant and Nick trailed the girl, while Jonas, Bex and I watched the woman.

It was like some sort of wild goose chase. She went on an expedition all around New York, sometimes going to places without surveillance cameras – at those points; we had to guess where she went. I had to admit it, she was good. She left no traces of her being anywhere. She was as good a pavement artist as Cammie was, perhaps even better. It was so hard to see her, but all my willpower to find Cammie burnt in me when I looked at this unknown person. I wouldn't lose her. I couldn't afford to.

Jonas was just as determined, seeing as this woman could be the person who hurt Liz. So when she finally joint up with the girl again at the airport, we both whooped and high-fived.

They were on a twenty-hour trip to Sydney, Australia. That's where we'd go next, where we'd be ready for them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Cammie's POV**

"Hello?" I asked into the phone. "Catherine, are you there?"

"Oh, Cammie!" Catherine's voice crackled through the receiver and I sighed in relief. "How's your holiday with Morgan?"

"Not good," I replied, ignoring the annoyed complaints of the people outside the toilet. Yes, I was hiding inside the toilet. It was the only place where I could call someone in peace, but unfortunately, the queue of people outside was growing.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sounding amused. "Can you not handle being a mother?"

"No, it's much, much worse," I said emotionlessly, before launching into a report. "A girl in Morgan's class turned out to be Liz's daughter. Liz showed up and I shot her, so now we're on the run from the whole group, including your son."

She sighed. "I really can't leave you alone, can I? Where are you?"

"On a plane, heading towards Sydney," I filled her in. "But I'm sure the CIA has a faster plane. They'll be waiting for us when we land in one hour and twenty three minutes."

"Relax," she told me. "I'll have a contact pick you and Morgan up as soon as you touch down."

"Great. Thanks," I said in my nothing-will-take-this-cold-look-off-my-face voice.

"Oh and Cammie?" Catherine said before I hung up, allowing a trickle of emotion seep into her voice.

"What is it?"

"Good luck."

Then we ended the call.

Not allowing anyone the chance to get hold of my phone, I stamped on it, before throwing the pieces into the toilet and flushing. I washed my hands, to keep up the image of me actually pissing. When I emerged from the toilet, there was a bulky guy standing in front of me and as he shoved past me, he muttered about me having constipation or something.

**Zach's POV**

We were ready. Although the plane was now due to arrive in twenty seven minutes and thirty five seconds, we were already prepared for them. We were aiming for as little notice as possible, but if we had to, we would ambush them in public. Grant and Bex were going to go for the woman and Nick and Macey were going for the girl. I was back up, set for the worst. We were going to leave Jonas to his expertise, the technical side of things, but he was so bent on revenge that we gave him a tranquilizer gun and told him to stand by the entrance to the airport as a sort of backup for the backup.

The plane came two minutes late and the innocent people were walking towards us. I braced myself and felt my heart quicken. I watched and waited.

There. There was the girl and standing next to her was the woman.

Nick and Macey pounced on the girl who squealed in terror and froze. I guess she didn't know anything about martial arts. The people around the girl looked slightly frightened, but not enough to do anything.

Then Grant and Bex charged towards the woman, who by this time was alert and poised to fight. This made the crowd of other people panic. The woman was an expert, however. She took down Grant in less than three seconds, which had to be a record, and glanced in his direction with an expression that I couldn't read. Was it regret? Sorrow? Or even recognition?

Bex used that one second to her advantage. With a roar, she aimed a punch at the woman's face, but the woman ducked it, seemingly easily. Bex's eyes flashed with anger as they continued to spar. They did it like a dance and the longer it went on for, the more Bex's eyes grew less angry and more disbelieving, though I had no idea why.

I decided I had enough. They had been fighting for over half a minute now, with no result of who was winning, and what was worse, Bex seemed _reluctant _to hurt the other woman. I ran towards them and aimed a kick to her knee. She somersaulted over it, before landing the flip on Bex's chest, abruptly ending Bex's fight. She turned towards me, but not before my hand flew towards her face. With amazing reflexes, she gripped my hand before it landed the punch… and I knew something.

I knew that hand. I knew the way it felt, how it was soft and yet hard at the same time, how it had the ability to choke someone to death and hold someone's face to theirs with the utmost delicacy.

That was the hand I had been longing to caress my cheek for eleven years.

Cammie.

I froze for a second and stared into her eyes. Why hadn't I noticed the eyes before? They were the exact same shade… but now they were glaring at me with hatred. Something in them told me that I had no second chances, that she would get revenge on me later, that the only reason she wasn't killing me right now was because she had to escape.

There were no words spoken, but my heart still shattered into a million pieces.

Then she turned and fled, jumping over a chair and the person inside it. Too late, I realised she was getting away. Cursing, I sprinted after her, towards the entrance. Was she really going to abandon the other girl? Wait, if this was who

Jonas shot a few darts in her direction and I suddenly remembered why he was best _not _on the field. He had the worst aim out of all of us, including Liz. A dart caught three innocent people, who fell to the floor unconscious, before one hit me.

My mind was screaming _NO! I have to find Cammie! _But my body refused to listen and I collapsed on the floor and blackness rushed up to meet me.

**Cammie's POV**

My cover was blown. Liz was the first to see me and I had hoped she'd be the only one, I'd hoped my identity would die with her. At least Grant didn't know. He only had three seconds to see who I was and it wasn't enough. But he'd know soon.

Bex knew – I saw it in her eyes. She recognised my fighting style. It was the same style (well, with a few alterations and a couple new dirty moves), the same one which used to get me pounded in P&E.

And Zach? Zach knew, for sure. I could see it in the way his body jerked suddenly when my hand touched his arm, the same hand which had held his head and stroked his cheek eleven years ago.

Jonas, however, didn't spare me the few seconds to figure out who I really was, which I was both grateful and ungrateful for. He shot at me, but he obviously hadn't practised with a gun since he was at Blackthorne. He missed and the darts hit other people instead of me. The footsteps pounding behind me, hot at my heels, stopped abruptly, which I figured meant that Zach got shot too.

I ran outside and eyed a motorcycle. I hopped on it and ignited the engine, having stolen the keys from the motorcycle rental centre. With a deep breath, I sped forward in the motorcycle, but not out of the airport. I had a daughter to save.

Instead, I rammed the motorcycle through the glass wall. There were screams as the glass shattered into a million dangerous pieces. The glass probably would have cut into my head if it weren't for my helmet, but I had no time to worry about the rest of my body's safety. I scanned the area for my daughter and located her, standing between Macey and the guy I didn't know, with a blindfold.

Macey stared at me, her mouth hanging wide open, as I zoomed towards them. I was slightly worried I might overrun her, especially as she looked frozen to the spot, but luckily for her – and my conscience – the other guy pulled her out of the way as I stopped beside Morgan and dragged her onto the motorcycle.

"Hold on tight," I said to her.

"Mom?" she asked, scared out of her wits. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it is honey," I replied, making sure her arms were wrapped tightly around my waist and fixing my helmet onto her head. "Now, let's go."

Macey looked like she was about to throw herself at me, so I took off right away and soon we were on the highway, driving away from my old friends and towards safety.

**Zach's POV**

"Guys, are you sure it wasn't just wishful thinking?" Nick clarified, looking anxious for both Bex and I.

"No, it was definitely her," Bex and I said simultaneously, looking at each other for proof.

Jonas slammed his hand down on the table and I noticed he had dark bags underneath his eyes. "It can't be! If it was Cammie, then it means _she _shot my family!"

We were all silent for a moment, contemplating what he had just said. Had Cammie really shot Liz, her childhood friend? Who was she? And was she really an assassin like the little girl said? What had my betrayal done to her?

"Maybe it would be better if we made a mistake and it wasn't actually Cammie," Macey said quietly and we all had to agree with her. That madwoman couldn't be Cammie… it just couldn't.

Then Bex said, "We could say that we made a mistake, but that would be lying. We can't just live our lives on a lie. If we want to get to the bottom of things, we'll just have to accept it." Bex was also right.

"What have I done to her?" I muttered, holding my head in my hands. My friends looked at me with sympathy, but they had no idea how bad I was taking this. My sweet, innocent Cammie being an assassin… it could just kill me.

"Zach," Macey said softly, staring at me understandingly, probably because she felt guilty too, "it's not all your fault. It's all of our faults. We… we weren't there when she needed us most. We were too occupied with our own lives."

"Honey, don't stress about it," Nick said, rubbing her back gingerly. "Everyone makes mistakes and it's not your fault that you had a business to run."

"I just hope she's okay," Macey sighed.

"Yeah," Bex said quietly, and I could tell she was trying to fight off the emotion in her voice, "I hope so too."

**Cammie's POV**

"Mom, you've got to tell me the truth. I'm tired of all your lies," Morgan stared at me seriously. We were on another plane ride, back to America and to danger, again. The only difference was that this time, we were on a private plane of Catherine's friend – which was a good thing. There was no way people could hear our conversations here.

"Are you an assassin or not?" Morgan prompted and I snapped back into reality.

I looked levelly at her distraught expression and sighed. This child could make me reveal secrets that were best left as secrets. She could weasel her way into anything with her cute pouting face and her gorgeous green eyes that painfully reminded me of her father. I said finally, "Promise you won't freak out?"

Her pout widened into a grin and she giggled at the prospect of her finally getting her way… again. "I promise, Mom."

"Okay then," I said, before taking a deep breath. Ten years of secrets and lies were going to be discarded in just three words: "I'm an assassin."

She grinned mischievously. "I knew it!"

"What?!" I exclaimed, surprised, before I lowered my voice. "Why aren't you scared of me then?"

"I could never be afraid of you, Mom," she replied, "even with your line of business. You're always my mom first and you job second… well, around me you are anyway. How many people have you killed?"

"Um…" I thought about it for a few moments. "I… I've lost count. But just because this is my work doesn't mean that you can go around shooting people, okay? I want you to be strictly on the right side of the law."

"But Mom…" she whined. "You're such a hypocrite! You commit the worst crime there is and you're telling _me _to be perfectly good?"

"Well, technically I kill the people who are my side of the law. I'm just like the police except I deliver death sentences, rather than lock the bad guys in prison," I clarified. "And besides, I was a good guy until…" I was going to say _until Zach broke my heart_, but luckily I stopped myself before I could spurt any secrets about Goode. "I was a good guy until I… was nineteen."

"Why did you turn bad?" she probed for more information.

"I… I was having you and I didn't want anyone to find out," I said finally, using the best excuse I could come up with.

She looked shocked. "So the reason you're now a murderer is because of me? You're bad because you got raped and you wanted to cover it up? You didn't want me, did you? You wanted to hide me so no one could find out?"

"No, no, no!" I said, realising how badly this conversation was spiralling out of control, just like the conversation with Arianne and look at how that ended – with two almost dead people. "Morgan, I _wanted _you! That's why I ran away!"

"But if you wanted me, then why did you run away?" she asked, before something else dawned on her and she decided on that to talk about. "Nobody else wanted me. You wanted me, but nobody else did."

"No, it wasn't anyone else's fault, it…" I said frantically, trying to patch up the conversation. "You weren't the only reason I ran. I had… something to do. Someone to kill, but I needed the practise so I would be ready to kill him without fail."

"You want to kill my dad, don't you?" she guessed, and I have to admit, she is a hell of a good guesser.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I'm going to kill your dad."

"Because he raped you," she filled in, and that's where her theory went wrong.

"M," I said softly, "your dad didn't rape me. I just told that to Arianne. No, the truth is: I loved your father, but he cheated on me and I caught him red handed."

Morgan was silent for a moment, before she stared at me directly into the eye. "So you became a killer just because this guy cheated on you. Mom, I thought you were less shallow than that."

I spluttered, "What!"

"Mom, you're just being stupid," Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. "Now loads of people are dead because you had a crush on some guy who didn't feel the same way."

"I guess so," I murmured helplessly, spreading my fingers and examining my nails to avoid eye contact with my daughter and her clever observations.


	7. Chapter 7

**Cammie's POV**

We arrived at the Circle's base and I let out a deep breath of relief. We were truly, finally, back to safety. Sometimes I felt as though base was the only place I could relax, although here I was surrounded by a hundred assassins who were potentially much more dangerous than a bustling city of innocent people.

"So this underground headquarters thing," Morgan said in awe, gazing around us, "is actually the workplace of loads of assassins."

"Yes," I admitted. "This is where we gather all the information and it's the home of many assassins."

"Wow," she breathed. "That's… amazing. It's like the mafia, just a lot more secretive."

"And," I added, chuckling, "your grandmother is one of the leaders."

"No way!" she gasped, her eyes twinkling in admiration. "Grandma, the one who dropped me off to school every day, is one of the top assassins?"

"Yes," I said proudly, "and we're going to her office right now."

I led the way, while my daughter stared around her with newfound wonder. Of course, she had seen everything before. It's just that until now, she had never appreciated it like this. If I was in her situation, I would be running away from my seemingly crazy mother and grandma, rather than loving the whole business. So assassination was fine, but killing someone who you loved wasn't? I guess she got that kind of crazy judgement from her stupid father.

I knocked on the door and Catherine's voice said clearly, "Come in." I entered as she said, "Ah, Cammie… and Morgan? What are you doing here, child?"

"I know all about your job now," she beamed proudly. "I like it. It's so much more exciting than the stupid cruise ship manager story you told me before."

Catherine glanced at me worriedly before turning her attention back her granddaughter. "Morgan, I really don't think you should be caught up in all of this stuff. You should at least try not to kill anyone until you're at least eighteen."

"You're just like Mom, you hypocrite," she groaned. "I want to do something in my life other than school and homework, something that I can be proud of."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," I said, cocking a hip and staring at my daughter with raised eyebrows, "but killing people isn't anything to be proud of."

"You should be proud of your schoolwork!" Catherine added, cutting me off from saying anything more, and Morgan fixed her grandmother with a look which obviously said _seriously?_

Then her attention turned back to me when I continued, relentless of Catherine's outburst, "I'm serious, M. Sometimes the faces of the people I've killed, especially if you've known them before… looking into a person's eyes before you pull the trigger… and then watching the life bleed out of them… Assassination is a depressing path to take."

Morgan pondered on it a while, before saying finally, "I… I don't think I'd be brave enough to kill someone in cold blood. But if it's so depressing, why don't you just leave?"

I sighed and glanced at Catherine before I explained, "It started off because I wanted to kill Zach. But now… well, I still want to kill him, but that's not the point. I'm far too deep in the business to let go of it. If I left the Circle now, I'd be too dangerous – I'd have too many secrets to be trusted with, because I'm one of the top agents. I'm one of the few who know more than half of the Circle's members."

"So… if you were to leave the Circle," Morgan reasoned aloud, "you'd have to be killed."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Likewise, there is no such thing as retirement in the CoC. When I decide that I'm too old to work anymore, I'll have to be put down, willingly or not. It's one of the key ways of how we stay a secret."

"That's horrible," Morgan frowned in disapproval. "I don't want you to die, Grandma."

Catherine gave my daughter a thin lipped smile. "That's why, when the time comes, you should spend a lot of time thinking about whether you want to join – that is, if you have a choice or not anyway. They might force you into it because you know so much already."

"What!" Both Morgan and I stood up at the same time. We both started speaking at once, but I knew how much Catherine liked to keep order so I gestured for my daughter to speak first.

To my surprise, Morgan spoke to me rather than Catherine. "Mom, one of the things you've been telling me since I was a baby is that I'm allowed my own choices. You said I don't have to be forced into anything!"

"Which brings us to my point," I took over, turning to Catherine. "You said we could use the memory tea, like we did on Josh."

"Who's Josh?" Morgan asked, but she was ignored. I didn't like leaving her out, but she knew too much already without the whole Josh and Gallagher thing, especially seeing as her other grandmother was the headmistress of the school.

"We're not really like Gallagher, Cammie," Catherine shrugged helplessly. "They might not want the risk of something triggering her memory by mistake."

"We can trust her!" I shouted fiercely. "We both know that!"

"I know, but it's not up to me," Catherine said. "At least she has until she's eighteen to savour the freedom. I may not be able to prevent them from it, but I've stalled the vote of the Circle's board."

I relaxed slightly. "That's eight years to find a loophole, thankfully."

"Eight years, Cammie," Catherine said gravely. "That's not much."

"But it's a start."

**Zach's POV**

Now, even the Director was intrigued by the strange mystery surrounding our Cammie. He decided to classify it as a mission, rather than work leave with the benefit of the CIA's technology and equipment.

Well, it wasn't that much different to before. They didn't allow us anymore agents to fulfil the mission, explaining that five field agents and one track were good enough. The only difference was that now we didn't have to use up our holiday leave for it. Oh, and now we had to do the paperwork too.

But if we found Cammie, the paperwork would totally be worth it.

Right now, we were taking a sort of 'break' from the mission. Bex and Grant's wedding was coming up and apart from news of 'the Chameleon' being found, it was the only thing the younger agents (and some of the of the older) could gossip about. What was the bride's dress going to look like? Is the cake going to be big? And here was one Tina Walters was asking: Is Grant going to be hot in a tux?

Ugh. Her very name made me shiver. She was asking if Grant was _good-looking _when he was getting married. I mean, she wasn't evil, not really. In fact, in our high school years, she was a really good friend of Cammie's, or at least an ally. It was my fault as much as hers that we slept together. No, it was entirely my fault.

Why had I let someone as beautiful and perfect as Cammie just walk out of my life? Why did I let myself cheat on Cammie? I had been drunk at the time, yes, but I should have been more responsible. Before, the only reason I woke up in the morning was to see her face, and now, it wasn't any different. But she didn't want to see mine anymore. She hated me.

I hated me too.

"Dude," Grant punched my shoulder lightly, "why the long face? It's my bachelor party tomorrow night. It's my last night of freedom."

"I heard that," Bex said loudly, walking up to Grant and embracing him, before lightly kissing him on the mouth.

I was happy for them, yes, but every time I saw a couple kissing, it was like a dagger in my chest. I wished they were Cammie and me so badly that it hurt; I wished Cammie and me were still in love like that. And even more than the sense of longing and jealousy, I felt pissed at them. It wasn't their fault and I knew I was being irrational, especially because they were getting married in two days, which gave them the right to kiss. And besides, they had stalled their honeymoon until after we find Cammie. But I couldn't help thinking that they should be working on our mission rather than spending their time staring into each other's eyes or making out.

I sighed, and got back to work, putting all thoughts of love out of my head.

**Cammie's POV**

I didn't know why, perhaps it's because I was feeling particularly emotional, but when I got back to my small suite within the underground base, I decided to check my emails – the one I made when I first started at Gallagher: _thechameleonisawesome _. I used that email throughout my school years and after I graduated, I kept using it between my closest friends.

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked innocently, trying to peer over my shoulder.

"Nothing," I turned the laptop screen away from her view. "Now why don't you have a nice long shower? It's late and you should go to sleep soon."

Morgan looked more interested in finding out what I was doing, but with great reluctance she decided it wasn't worth an argument and went inside the bathroom. Only when I heard the sound of Morgan humming a tune and water hitting the shower curtain, did I relax.

I turned back and found hundreds of emails, which brought a pang to my chest. I skimmed over them, starting with the very oldest, and some shouted out to me more than others.

Bex's were mostly threatens, like,_ CAMERON ANN MORGAN, IF YOU DON'T COME BACK, I WILL POUND YOUR FACE IN!_

Liz went for a slightly calmer approach; _Hey Cammie. Liz here. Just wanted to say, we really, really miss you. Please come back._

Macey's emails were longer and updated me on everyone and I was extremely glad she left out Zach: C_ammie, if you're searching for an apology, sister, you've got one. Sorry for everything. But, seriously, Liz is a complete wreck and at this rate, there won't be a baby at all. And Bex is a bit delusional at the moment. It's kind of weird. Your mom locked herself in her room for a whole week, refusing to talk to anyone, and I heard Mr Solomon had to be headmistress as a cover, but apparently he actually __**didn't **__look hot because he didn't eat, like, anything. And we might not be __**as **__close to Grant and Jonas, but I'm telling you, they're not much better than anyone else. You have to come back to fix everything._

Mom's emails pulled the guilt card and went along the lines of _Cammie, why? Why did you leave? I just… just can't cope without you. It's like everything isn't in colour or something. Could you please come back? Not for Zach, but for me._

Even Solomon sent dozen of emails – don't ask me how he got hold of it, though. _Cammie, why did you have to run away again? I promised your father I'd protect you and I can't do that now. But scratch that. I genuinely care about you like you're my own daughter, you know. I just can't believe you left._

I know Morgan was trying to tell me to get over my grudge against Zach, but when I saw the unread messages from him – more than any of my friends – I just couldn't bring myself to open them. I was close to breaking already and I felt like if I read his, I'd teeter over the edge of a cliff, into depression or insanity.

But although I felt horrible by reading them, I couldn't stop, as though someone was forcing my hand to click message after message. After a few months, the emails stopped altogether coming so often, as though they were finally coming to terms with the fact that I didn't use this email address anymore.

But Macey still emailed regularly, every week or so. It seemed that she was starting to think of her emails to me were like a diary, somewhere to record all her thoughts and to tell all her secrets. I soon caught up on everything that was going on around her with my old friends. I learnt about Arianne, Liz and Jonas's daughter, and she even sent me a picture of her as a baby. I found out about Bex and Grant's engagement and how the wedding was to take place soon. She told me about Nick, her new boyfriend, how must have been the guy in the group who I didn't recognise. Then she went on to say about their engagement.

Wait. If she was engaged to Nick, who was Zach engaged to? However, my question couldn't be answered because she wrote nothing about Zach. I suppose she'd pretend that I really _was _reading these emails and that I'd be hurt to read about him. For that, I was thankful, but simultaneously, I was curious. I wanted to know what happened to him, but I was scared of what I would find out. Even though I told myself I was over Zachary Goode, I didn't want to know about his new sex life.

Finally, I had one more email left. I clicked on it, feeling kind of sad that it was the last one. Despite what I tried to convince myself, I had enjoyed Macey's emails/diary entries. Then I realised that this one wasn't from Macey. It was from Bex. I braced myself to get ready for another shouting protest to get me to come back.

It wasn't. It said: _Cammie, I saw you in Sydney. I don't know why you ran away from us or who that little girl is, but if you still read these emails, please click on the link, print it off and come. Just… book it into your diary, okay?_

My curiosity getting the better of me, I clicked on the link and was amazed to find an invitation to her wedding, which was in two days. It was heart themed for Valentine's Day, just like we had planned in those nights in our room in Gallagher. I know it was just asking for trouble, but I promised her I'd come to her wedding – hell, I'd planned it so how could I _not _come to it?! I'd broken dozens of promises to Bex already, but somehow going back on that childhood innocence of us giggling late in the night was just too cruel. I was going to Bex's wedding.


	8. Chapter 8

**Cammie's POV**

My nerves weren't doing good things for me as I walked through the streets of Manhattan for the second time this week. The first time didn't go too well and there was nothing saying that the second time would be any different. It didn't really help that I didn't have a disguise on, but I decided that I couldn't turn up looking like someone else, not when my best friend was getting married. So I ignored my screaming instincts to run away and instead focused on blending into the crowd. I soothed my shaken feelings until I felt totally relaxed.

I finally arrived at the destination. There were two guards standing at the door, and I instantly knew this _had _to be the right place. It was a small chapel. I suppose the CIA wouldn't have liked Bex and Grant to get married in a cathedral, which would have attracted too much attention. On their scale, this was already quite big, especially because everyone inside belonged to some sort of spy agency.

"Um, is this Bex and Grant's wedding?" I asked, showing them my invitation. I sincerely hoped they weren't looking too closely, because printed onto the fancy invitation was my full name and it wouldn't do for anyone to know of my presence. I was in luck though. The guard barely glanced at it before opening the door, seeming bored of the whole ceremony.

I walked inside and felt relieved that I wasn't too late or too early; either would attract too much attention. Like usual, I was completely average, just in the middle. Nobody noticed when I lingered at the back near a pillar rather than sit in my assigned place. It seemed that Bex and Grant had carefully sorted out places for everyone to sit, probably fearing that the two agencies, the CIA and MI6, would start some competition, like usual.

I looked towards the altar, where Grant stood looking awfully uncomfortable in his suit, which almost made me start to giggle. It was good to see him again, at a point where I _don't _have to fight him. I noticed he had make-up on his face to cover up a bruise on his face, probably from when my fist had to connect with his jaw in Sydney.

Then standing next to him was his best man, Zach. Zach looked way too hot for his own good in his tux. Where Grant specialised in leather jackets, Zach looked like he was born to go to posh dinner parties with that charming smile. His hair was styled amazingly to make him look like he was trying to look special for this occasion but not _too _hard. And best of all, like always, were his gorgeous green eyes, which seemed tired and were presently gazing around the room. Part of me wanted him to notice me, but the rational part of me pulled me behind the pillar before he could see me.

Phew. That was close.

Then the organ burst into song and Bex made her grand entrance in a beautiful flowing white dress, a mix between old fashioned and modern. It was just… wow. I would never be able to look that amazing. I felt guilty that I wasn't there to pick her dress with her and organize everything, but Macey and Liz seemed to have done everything fine without me.

Following her were three bridesmaids, Macey (of course), my mother and Tina. A flush of anger rushed through me when I saw Tina but it was soon replaced by regret when I realised she was only covering for Liz and my mother was covering for me. Liz and I should have been up there, but we weren't, because of my stupid decisions. There was also one flower girl, Bex's niece I think, but I sensed that in the way that the flower girl moved, they had rehearsed the wedding with two. Arianne also should have been up there, but because of me, she wasn't.

Just before Bex started the majestic walk down the aisle, she glanced around the room where her eyes rested on an empty space beside Nick and her face fell. She whispered to Macey, "She's not here."

"Don't let her not being here ruin your wedding," Macey scolded softly. "She probably didn't get the email."

I realised they were talking about _me._

"I know," Bex said sadly, "but still. She promised she'd come. She was the one who came up with the Valentine's theme in the first place."

"It's okay," Macey replied, before pushing Bex forward; the guests were all wondering what the holdup was.

While the marriage ceremony took place, I was debating with myself whether to stay and risk being found or not. I would have liked to watch the rest, the reception and the dancing, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave Morgan to the world while I rotted in prison because I went to my friend's wedding. Then I pondered about whether I should give her my wedding gift in person, but again, I decided 'no'. It would only bring her misery on her wedding day, seeing me and then my bolting for it.

Without giving it a second thought (I knew if I let myself hesitate, I wouldn't be able to leave), I padded silently towards the door, dropping my present in the aisle as I went. I looked to the front in time to see my best friend and her new husband kiss. Luckily, everyone was too preoccupied by the kiss to notice me.

Then I glanced towards the altar one last time and my eyes rested on Zach's emerald green ones as he stared straight back. His mouth popped open into a little 'o' and his eyes widened slightly as he recognised who I was, but I had already slipped from the chapel.

With a sad sigh, I set on my journey back home.

**Bex's POV**

Our lips met and the rest of the world fell away as the sparks flew between us. I knew right then that Grant would be mine forever. It made everything worth it, even the bad things in the world. I knew I loved him he felt the same way and everything was perfect.

Then Zach made a sharp intake of breath and we sprang apart, ready for action, but as we gazed around the room, there was no action at all. I thought I saw someone slipping out of the door, but once I blinked, the figure was gone. It must have been a figment of my imagination.

My eyes rested on a wrapped up present lying in the aisle and I guess everyone else in the chapel did too. Grant and I ran over to pick it up and written on the front in a slightly messy cursive handwriting were the words: _Did you really think I would miss my best friend's wedding?_

I knew that handwriting anywhere. It was Cammie's, and I looked up at Grant's grinning face with a look of joy.

"She came," I breathed.

"Of course she did," Grant said, putting an arm around me. "Now open it! You know how I can't wait to open presents."

Together, we tore off the wrapping paper, knowing full well that this wasn't supposed to be part of the wedding, but choosing to forget about it. Inside was a gold gun (just an ornament – it didn't really fire anything) which split into two halves. It was strangely pretty and inscribed on one half of the gun was the name _'Mrs Newman' _and the other read '_'Mr Newman'. _Aw. That was so sweet of Cammie. Then we realised that with the gun were three fake bullets with tiny letters on them. The first bullet said _Baby Newman 1, _the second said _Baby Newman 2 _and so on. On the card, she said she included the bullets to show that she predicted we'd have three kids.

I guess I shouldn't have doubted Cammie after all.

**Cammie's POV**

"Look, Catherine," I began, crossing my arms over my chest and fixing her with a smug look. "I was chased all the way around the world and the CIA has made me a mission to retrieve. _That _is why Cameron Morgan does not take 'holidays'. If there was any sense in you, you'd let me go back to work."

"Then call me a lunatic," Catherine replied, shrugging. "You _will _have this holiday whether you like it or not. Sure, you're on the run. But look at what good has come out of this. You've opened up to your emotions more in the past week than you have for the last eleven years! Heck, you even attended a wedding! Next thing we know, you'll be dating again!"

"But that's not a good thing," I argued. "I'm supposed to be the Kill-Cham. How am I supposed to be that if I have a social life – if I've got _emotions_?"

Catherine countered, "Just keep them separate then. You're not doing Morgan any good by being Miss No-Feelings. You're ruining her chance of having a normal life – the very thing you've wanted her to have ever since she was born."

"But-"

"No, Cammie," Catherine reverted back to her business-like state. "I don't want any more excuses."

"I'll go crazy if I don't have something to do," I told her, running my hand through my hair. Zach used to do that a lot and I seemed to have inherited it from him. It was another painful reminder, but I couldn't help it. It was a horrible habit.

"Fine," she said, sighing in exasperation. "Why don't you go to Roseville?"

"Roseville?" I repeated and I stood up so abruptly that my chair toppled backward. "Roseville, Catherine? That's just asking for trouble!"

"I need someone to keep an eye on Gallagher Academy," she explained. "We want to watch all the students and see who would be good recruits for the Circle. Maybe when they are in town doing their CoveOps missions, you could watch them. That way, you can have your two month holiday with Morgan and a bit of work at the same time. Is that a deal?"

"Um," I started, "I'm not sure about this Catherine. What happens if they see me? What happens if they find out?"

She snorts. "I planted one single agent out there for ten years, Cammie. He watched every operation and nobody noticed that he was the same person."

"And what happened to him after ten years?" I asked.

A troubled expression crossed her face. "Uh… you don't need to know about that."

"What happened?" I repeated.

"He…" she coughed. "He got caught and he's in prison with a life sentence for killing various people. Luckily, he didn't know anything about the Circle apart from the codename of the person who gave him orders so no secrets were spilled."

"So if I get caught, I've got a life sentence," I concluded.

"Yes," Catherine nodded apologetically. "But if you're careful, you won't be caught."

"Fine," I said reluctantly, to Catherine's surprise. "I'll do it."

**Macey's POV**

"Ah, Agent McHenry and Agent Baxter – or rather, Agent Newman," the Director acknowledged as we walked into his office, "you're here. I know you are busy with your mission and, believe me, it sounds extremely interesting, but we've got another, more important mission for you."

Bex started to protest about our importance in our current mission but I shot her a look to shut her up, or at least until he had told us what he wanted us to do. Thankfully, she got the message.

"You see, Gallagher Academy is currently running low on staff. The Protection and Enforcement a.k.a. P&E teacher, Ms Hancock, has accepted a mission to Singapore because she was the only agent eligible for that particular mission. It will last approximately three weeks. Meanwhile, Mr Solomon took a mission to infiltrate the Circle, but was discovered before he could find out the names of the top assassins. He was shot in the right shoulder and the thigh, and is therefore in hospital. Headmistress Morgan has requested you two to be the cover teachers, Macey will be the CoveOps teacher and Bex will be the P&E teacher until Ms Hancock and Mr Solomon return."

"But what about the press and the journalists?" I asked the Director. "I bet they'll know about it before I even arrive at the school!"

"We have made a cover for you, Agent McHenry," he replied. "You will be pretending to visit the school because of the large 'donation' you are going to give to it for teaching you so much. After all, people think that the only reason you are as polite as you are now is because they think that Gallagher has knocked the rebelliousness out of you."

Then Bex spoke up. "Director, I'm not sure I want to take this job."

"Mrs Newman!" the Director said sharply. "These young women need teachers. They will be the upcoming CIA agents and every day of learning is vital for their futures. I know you were excited about the prospect of retrieving your friend, but I am leaving you no choice in the matter. You must take the jobs, agents."

I started speaking before Bex let out any annoyed outbursts. "And are you sure it will only last three weeks?"

"Yes," the Director nodded.

"Then I guess we have to take the jobs," I shrugged and stood up to leave the room. Bex stared at me lividly and I shot her back a helpless look.

"Good," the Director said as we headed towards the door. "Oh and Mrs Newman?"

"Yes?"

"Congratulations on your wedding."

"Thanks," she muttered darkly and we exited the room.

"Ugh!" Bex threw her hands up in the air with frustration as we walked down the corridor. "This is the worst timing ever!"

"Talk about it," I replied. "But it's fine. We can still stay in contact with everyone else and I suppose it's only three weeks. On weekends, we can help out, right?"

"Yeah," Bex sighed. "But this whole thing sucks."

My iPhone vibrate, signalling a new email, and I picked it up, before freezing on the spot.

"What is it?" Bex stared at me worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

"Cammie emailed me," I breathed, before reading the short message aloud. "_Did Bex like her present?_"


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone! So sorry that I haven't updated in 4 days, but I'm back on track and I'll be updating every 1 or 2 days again!**

**J**

**Cammie's POV**

"Welcome to our new home," I flung the front door open. It was a small house with drab furnishings, but it didn't look like it was going to fall apart any second at least. With a bit of paint and some personalizing, it would be fine. Catherine and I had specifically chosen this house to rent because it was at the edge of town, closest to Gallagher but also the furthest from the centre of the town.

Morgan crinkled her nose with disdain. "I liked the new apartment in New York more."

"Well, you'll just have to live with this for two months," I replied, reclining on the sofa. "You'll get used to it, I'm sure."

"Great," Morgan drawled sarcastically. "I'll have to get used to the dull, plain furniture of a cottage in the smallest town ever."

I laughed. "You have to be the most urban girl I know! I bet you wouldn't last a day on a farm."

"I would!" Morgan said defensively, before admitting, "But only if there's a TV."

"You wouldn't go too well in the wild either," I laughed even more.

She pouted. "I might last longer if you taught me some moves… maybe a bit of martial arts?"

"M," I sighed, for the billionth time this week. "You know how I feel about you fighting: not until you're older!"

"But why?" she moaned. "You don't think it would be cool for me to be able to fight?"

"Cool, yes," I retorted, "but not for the reasons you want."

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me defiantly. "Fine, if you think you know why I want to fight, tell me."

"Hmm… let's see. You want to fly back to your old school in one of the Circle's private planes and punch Robbie's face in for calling you a bitch?" I predicted.

"Rats," Morgan muttered. "She's really good at guessing my thoughts… stupid killer mom."

"And I'm also capable of hearing," I smiled at my daughter, stroking her hair. Sure, the colour was the same as mine, but its texture and thickness… the particular way those stray strands always fell over her eyes… If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine her as Zach rather than my daughter. Oh, it had been years since I had spoken to him, years since I had kissed him, and sometimes I just wished I could have him back and just ignore how badly he had hurt me.

"Um… Mom?" Morgan abruptly woke me from my daydream. "Why are you stroking my hair? It's weird."

I pulled my hand away. "It's nothing… Your hair's really nice though."

"Are you just trying to compliment yourself?" she asked.

"What?"

She stared at me as though I was stupid. "Our hair is exactly the same."

"No," I felt a small smile tugging at my lips. "It really isn't, Morgan."

"Whatever." Morgan rolled her eyes, acting like a moody sixteen year old rather than a cute girl of ten.

"Well, it's better than the Circle base, right?" I said optimistically.

She glared at me. "Seriously, if I had the choice, I wouldn't even be here."

"You and me both," I muttered, pulling my (new) suitcase into my bedroom and starting to unpack some of my clothes.

**Bex's POV**

From outside the hall, I listened as Rachel called for attention. The excited voices inside quietened as they listened to their headmistress with rapture. Macey finally stopped examining her nails – she insisted that we delay our flight here to get her nails done because they got chipped on a mission and her cover of giving the school a huge donation required her to be looking perfect.

"Girls," Rachel's voice echoed in the huge dining hall, "Ms Hancock is currently in Singapore on business." This sent whispers through the crowd. They all realised what 'business' meant. "And Joe – that is, Mr Solomon – is in hospital after an incident." This triggered even more whispers. They probably knew what 'incident' meant too. "So… please meet your cover teachers."

Macey and I burst into the room before she could even declare our names. All eyes turned to us, but unlike Cammie, we were okay with it. We could deal with stares and gasps. We were fine with whispers and gossip. Their reactions were as we expected.

"I'll introduce myself, thank you, Rachel," I said, gazing over our shocked audience. "I'm Agent Baxter, your cover teacher for P&E." I decided to take my maiden name, just for effect. People wouldn't know Rebecca Newman.

Macey finished off for me. "And I'm Macey McHenry, your cover CoveOps teacher."

Everyone knew about Macey McHenry. Her business was in the line of fashion and right now, it was growing as big as Hollister. There were a 'McHenry's' in every mall in the world. She had to be one of the most famous people around. But they obviously didn't realise that even with all her money and clothes, she was still a spy. The very fact that nobody knew about that showed just how good she was at lying low when she wanted to.

They, slightly disturbingly, also knew me. It seemed like I was a legend back at base for my P&E skills. Of course, it wasn't _as _appreciated as pavement artists were, but it was still good enough. Besides, everyone knew how instead of keeping the attention away from me in my missions, I tended to attract attention with my 'exotic' look and I used it to my advantage. Rather than hide away and follow my enemies, I'd let them see me. Of course, they knew I was a spy, thanks to my status, and they'd come over. Then I'd pin them on the floor and get them to tell me any information the CIA needed. It _usually _worked.

"Thank you, Bex," Ms Morgan smiled at me sadly and in those tired eyes, I knew why she was upset. We reminded her of her daughter, being her best friends and all. "Well, that's all the notices today. Tuck in."

Everyone started eating, chatting and laughing together like we used to when we were here. It was really sad to see the school without us, the same traditions that were still in place and the same way that the students behaved. It brought back too many memories… all of which included a certain best friend who wasn't with us anymore.

We were supposed to sit down and eat too, but I led Macey towards Rachel instead, figuring that not _too _many people would notice now that their food was here. Surprisingly, Macey knew what I was going to say before I said anything. She was the one who spoke.

"Ms Morgan – I mean, Rachel – we want to speak to you… about Cammie."

Her head jerked at her daughter's name and when she looked up at us, there was fear in her eyes. Her lip trembled slightly when she said, "What about her?"

"We just want you to know that we're doing a mission on finding her," I said _very softly_, because I knew some of the school had seen Rachel's reaction to what Macey said and were straining to hear what we were talking about. I also went out of my way to say it without moving my lips much, because I knew how good Gallagher girls were at lip reading. "At first, we were just searching by ourselves, but then something happened and the Director decided to classify it as a mission. It's the third time the Director's conducted a search for her."

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes widening as she stood up from her chair. She didn't even bother to keep her voice down and now we held everyone's attention. Rachel quickly sat down again.

"Liz called us to say that she knew where Cammie was," Macey launched into the story.

I continued, "She went to the location with Arianne and we came as back-up."

"When we got there," Macey took over, "there was a girl and a woman coming out of the building and the girl was calling the woman a killer, but we didn't really have the time to question them. We figured it was probably just a coincidence."

"So we went inside," I said quietly, "and then we found Liz and Arianne lying on the floor, half dead."

Rachel let out a slight gasp, but didn't say anything else so as to attract no more attention than we already had.

"They're in hospital now," Macey said gravely and I wasn't sure whether it was supposed to be a reassurance or not. "So next, we decided to track down the woman and the girl and found them on a plane to Sydney. That's where we went next."

"The woman – she was… she was Cammie, Rachel," I whispered, my voice cracking. "And we thing she might have shot Liz and Arianne."

She stared at us painfully. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I nodded sadly and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Macey passing a hand over her eyes in a swift motion to discreetly wipe her tears away. "But we don't know who the girl was. And we still don't know how Liz found out about her location."

Rachel said hesitantly, "Thank you, girls – I mean, agents. Now… if you don't mind, I'll be going… back to my office…"

Macey and I shared a worried look as Rachel stood up, her chair scraping backwards loudly in the process. Then she briskly walked to the nearest door, all eyes on her. Everyone could tell that tears were threatening to spill over, but I didn't say anything. Nobody did.

After she left, there was a silence while everyone examined us and wondered what kind of twisted information could make their headmistress cry. We didn't speak as we left the room too, neither of us needing to eat anything, as tasty as Chef Louis' crème brûlée sounded.

**Morgan's POV**

"Have a nice day at school, M," Mom called as I ran out of the kitchen in a hurry.

As I quickly strapped my school shoes in, I shouted in return, "I will! See you later, Mom!"

I couldn't wait for a new school, a new identity. This time, Mom had sensibly decided to change not only my surname, but my first name too. I was now 'Suzan Smith' or 'Suzie' for short, a perfectly common sort of name. Millions of people had that name, probably, and I was now one of them. Hopefully I'd have better luck in this school than in the past one.

"Excuse me," I tapped on the shoulder of a boy about my age, surrounded by four friends, wanting to ask where the head's office was.

"What do you want?" the boy spun around to face me. Then he cocked his head to one side and said, "You must be new around here."

"Yeah," I nodded. "How did you know that?"

He laughed. "Didn't you know? Each year basically consists of one class. I recognise everyone at this school."

"Your school is this small?" I asked, surprised.

"There is virtually no one in this town," he shrugged. "The only time it gets busy is in September, when a bunch of stupid royals come and drop their snobby daughters at this stupid posh school."

"What school is that?"

"Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women," he replied darkly and his four friends scowled at its mention.

Where had I heard that before…? The answer seemed so close, yet I couldn't reach it. Something to do with… that girl… Arianne…

"Never heard of it," I lied.

He cracked into a smile. "We'll have you hating it in no time. What's your name anyway?"

"I'm Suzan… Smith, but you can call me Suzie," I said, holding out a hand for him to shake.

He took it. "I'm Dillon. Dillon Abrams."

**Cammie's POV**

"Have a nice day at school, M," I called as she ran out of the kitchen in a hurry.

She shouted back, "I will! See you later, Mom!"

The house soon became silent, having no crazy ten year olds running around the place anymore. My work was always a great distraction, especially the horrible images of the people I'd killed, but I had forgotten the peace that came with just sitting down and relaxing.

I switched on the TV, which was reporting the death of Bruce Reiner, the billionaire who owned Reiner Enterprises. The police and the FBI were sure he had been cornered and shot, before being thrown into a river. The estimated the murder to be about a week old, and they had no idea about it until his body was found floating in the sea. The news reporter then went on to describe how the killer was still being identified, but was clearly a professional. They told everyone to stay on the lookout for a woman with blue hair and a tattoo on her hand.

Little did they know, the woman they should have been searching for had dirty blonde hair and was in a house on the outskirts of Roseville.

I sighed and pressing a button on my remote, the plasma TV went dead. Even in my relaxation time I couldn't escape from my job. Reaching for a book that Catherine had decorated the house with, I started reading. Perhaps this would calm me down.

It didn't. It was all about the perfect couple and I really couldn't read about love anymore without feeling sick with jealousy and longing for Zach back. Now that I thought about it, Morgan was right. It was no longer even his fault that we couldn't be together. I always liked to take matters into my own hands and I had. I'd chosen to run away and start over in the Circle, not him. It was my fault that all those people were dead, not his. I'd brought this all upon myself, all this guilt, all this regret, not him. All these years I've been blaming everything on him, but in the end, I couldn't really blame him that much. His only fault was that he didn't break up with me before he slept with Tina.

Now that I looked back on everything, he probably didn't even love me at all. I was just another cute girl, an object, not an equal. It was already a blessing that he stayed with me for two years anyway. I wasn't even hot or cute – I was just Cammie. I guess I shouldn't have brushed it off when I had wondered why he liked me. I should have known that I wasn't pretty enough for him. I should have noticed that he didn't truly love me.

If I could do this all again, I might have done it all differently. I would have been more careful when I was around him. I would have gone out of my way to register the little things I should have noticed – maybe he was eyeing other girls while we walked together or maybe while I was buying an ice cream for both of us he was exchanging phone numbers with other girls. I would have treasured each of our kisses like they were gold and I would never take him for granted. And most importantly of all, I would have broken it off with him long before I had in real life, before I got hurt and before I got pregnant with Morgan. I loved her so much, but it would be much better if half of her genes weren't Zach's.

But despite changing my views about Zach, was I going to go back on my vow to kill him?

No. I wasn't going to let dozens of people's deaths all be for nothing. All those lives I had taken, innocent or not, wouldn't go to waste. I would kill him, for all those years and all those people, even though it would probably kill me too.

I'd have to do it soon though, before I changed my mind.

Don't worry, I promised myself, Zach will be dead soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here's an extra long chapter! And please review, because it would make me so very happy!**

**Bex's POV**

"Class dismissed," I declared, and my class of girls stopped what they were doing and began walking towards the changing rooms, no doubt talking about how mean I had been.

I knew I had probably trained them twice as hard in this lesson than their usual training with Ms Hancock, but this morning I really wasn't in the mood to teach. I was torn between grief, distress and anger. Grant, Zach and Nick had emailed me earlier to say that they weren't getting anywhere. Jonas was at home, grieving, because the hospital had phoned him up to say that Arianne was doing fine, but Liz probably wasn't going to pull through. She was constantly on my mind. Our Liz, the one I had known since childhood, might not wake to see her daughter or her husband or her best friends ever again.

Bad news followed. The plane that Cammie had apparently taken from Sydney seemed to have landed in the middle of nowhere on some sort of plain or field. The plane then disappeared. It was just… gone. Grant, Zach, and Nick visited the location but found nothing, not even a trace of the plane being there. They still didn't know who the girl was either.

I couldn't help but feel like for the past four days I'd been at Gallagher, I'd been wasting precious time. I could have been with them, supporting them and helping out, but instead I was teaching.

I headed towards the hall for lunch. The initial shock of us being here had sort of worn off and now it was okay to eat without too many stares. Macey was already there, tucking into her food happily. I took up my usual place next to her and instantly started complaining about how useless I felt; I knew full well that I probably looked like a little kid whining about his melting ice cream.

Three people burst into the hall and immediately everyone's eyes swivelled to face them. I noticed some girls' jaws dropping and even a bit of drooling. Yes, it was the boys – our boys. Grant, Zach, Nick and Jonas were in the house.

Before anyone even knew what was happening, Rachel was up and greeting them. Although it was a few seconds later, Macey and I followed. I couldn't believe it. They were here? Why?

"What's your business here?" she asked civilly, though I could sense that it hurt Rachel so much to talk to the main cause of her daughter's disappearance. "Is it some sort of CIA business, or are you here of your own accord?"

"Both," Zach answered, and I saw that he was equally uncomfortable when his hand twitched. "It started off as some random searching but then… someone..." he glanced at Jonas anxiously, whose face was blank and unreadable, "got shot. The director decided to classify it as an official mission now."

"Oh," Rachel said quietly, "you're talking about _that _mission. So why are you here and not in New York?"

"We were wondering whether we could stay here," Jonas said, surprising all of us. He had seemed so silent until this point that some of the girls hadn't noticed him at all. "Bex and Macey are part of the mission too and it would be more successful if they were helping."

"Of course you can stay," Rachel cracked into a distant smile, as though she was imagining a world with her daughter in it. "Please feel free to do whatever you want here. You can use all the facilities we have to offer…" she hesitated, before saying, "well, that is, you can use them on one condition…"

"Anything," Nick gestured for Rachel to continue.

She said, "You have to help out Bex and Macey with their lessons too. Seeing as they haven't had much teaching experience, they might benefit from your help, especially when demonstrating things that involve other people."

She stared at me pointedly and I shrunk away under her sharp gaze, knowing full well what she was referring to. Earlier this morning, I had lost my temper when a girl was fooling around and refused to quieten down when I asked her to. I called her up to the front for a 'demonstration' and punched her in the face. Apparently, when you teach a punch, you aren't supposed to demonstrate on students, or at least not with your full power.

"Of course," Zach said graciously, and I realised that he actually could be polite if he wanted to. Madame Dabney must have rubbed off on him after all. "We would be delighted to help Miss McHenry and Mrs Newman."

"Don't call me that," I growled at him. "I'm Ms Baxter, remember?"

"You don't like my surname? Why did I ever get married? Why do I even bother with life?" Grant gasped while he looked at me, clutching a hand over his heart dramatically and I rolled my eyes, even though I knew I was grinning like crazy. He ran over to where I stood and caught me in a bone-crushing embrace. He spoke into my hair, "I've missed you, Mrs Newman."

I pulled away after a few seconds, much to both of our discontents, but I was still smiling at him when I said softly, "Let's not make a scene, shall we?"

"Too late," Nick laughed at us and I realised that every girl in the room was staring at me with jealousy or resentment. Huh, I should have guessed that girl spies-in-training wouldn't forget about their girl side – the part that longed to have a boyfriend, even one with an over ten year age difference. We certainly didn't ignore that part of ourselves when Mr Solomon came walking through for the first time.

I flushed red with embarrassment. "Well, uh…"

Rachel saved me from humiliation when she filled in, "How about you introduce yourselves?"

"Sure," Grant said, stepping forward to take the lead. He addressed the crowd. "I'm Grant Newman. Maybe if you were here at age five you would still remember that glorious day when the Blackthorne boys came here to brighten everyone's lives." **[A/N I know Gallagher starts in seventh grade, but let's just imagine it starts at four.]**

Everyone looked excited at hearing about Gallagher's sister school. They all knew about the exchange and how it went. I bet some of the girls spent their time daydreaming about what life would have been like for our year, the lucky students who did the exchange programme.

"I'm Nick," Nick introduced himself. "I wasn't in Blackthorne, but I _was _a Corporal in the marines… then a Sergeant Major in the army… then a Lieutenant in the Navy… and a Captain in the Air Force…"

"Alright, that's enough with the boasting already!" Macey interrupted, rolling her eyes at him, while the rest of the school were staring at him in awe, probably wondering whether he was available or not.

"Yeah, I got kicked out of a lot of jobs for pranking people," he said finally, shooting Macey a glare. "Thankfully the CIA decided my pranks didn't really matter, because I had too much talent to just waste."

Macey muttered, "He's such a boastful pig."

Nick chose to ignore her as he concluded the commentary of his life story. "So, ladies, I would tell you to call me, but unfortunately, I'm not available."

"But you will be, if you keep flirting with other people," Macey said to him, seeming terribly amused.

The look of shock on his face was priceless, but even better were the aghast looks of the other girls when they realised two out of four of the guys were taken already.

Next up was Jonas, who seemed in his own world until we prompted him. He said finally, "Oh, I'm Jonas Anderson."

Then he sunk back into his depression once more. The pressure of his almost-dead wife was hitting all of us badly, but him the most and I didn't blame him for not concentrating on introductions. I heard one girl whisper to another that Jonas was hot, and that so far, he was the only person who hadn't claimed to be in a relationship. Her friend argued that Jonas looked far too sad to be cute and an observant girl next to them reminded them that he had a ring on his ring finger so he had to be married – he wasn't the type of person who wore rings for the sake of fashion.

Zach looked smug, but not as much as his usual with all this Cammie business. He looked slightly sad, which was a lot for him. Usually his mask of emotion was on and the only expression you could see was his arrogant look. "I'm Zachary Goode. It's nice to meet you. Oh, and I'm taken if anyone was wondering."

"No, you're not," Macey argued. "You're lying."

"I am!" he protested. "I _am _taken, remember?"

"Hmm… let me think…" Macey said sarcastically before showing her dazzling white teeth at him and said sweetly, "Nope, you definitely are not taken, Goode, and you know it too. You haven't dated in eleven years. You spend your Friday and Saturday nights alone! I bet you even remember how to – ugh, I can't say it in front of anyone. Rachel would probably kill me. That reminds me, guys. No swearing here. It's not allowed."

"Damn – I mean, dang – it!" Nick exclaimed, while Zach was just glad that the attention was off him and his non-dating ways. "How the hell – heavens, or whatever – am I supposed to not swear for three fucking – I mean, freaking – whole weeks?"

"It's almost two weeks left now," Rachel smiled, with an entertained expression.

Nick groaned. "That's two weeks in h – the burning pits where the bad bas – that is, people – go when they die."

Rachel looked slightly worried for the young kids' ears now and she quickly drew up four extra chairs next to ours for her guests, hoping to preoccupy them with food. We all sat back down and slowly, gradually, the attention of the girls turned back to their own food and conversations. When nobody was looking our way, I saw Nick pulling out a cigarette.

"No cigarettes," Macey and I said simultaneously and I held out his hand to take the lighter and the pack of cigarettes. Reluctantly, he dropped them into my hand.

"No drinking either," Macey smirked at him as he took out a bottle and he swore under his breath. She gestured for him to hand it over and then threw it onto the floor. It shattered into millions of glass pieces as the red liquid oozed out.

He swore at her again, this time openly loud. "Fuck you, Macey."

She laughed. "You know you love me really."

"Of course," Nick smirked at her and he leaned in to peck her on the cheek.

**Morgan's POV**

"So, do you want to come over to my house today?" Dillon asked, as I fished something out of my locker.

Luckily, his friends weren't around. They always looked at me with resentment. Dillon was the king of popularity in our year and fifteen out of twenty people in our class kept trying to get in his good books. It seemed me coming here and immediately becoming inseparable with him got me a lot of enemies. What took me five days took some of Dillon's friends five years. But thankfully, it also got me a lot of popularity, especially with those who Dillon wasn't best friends with.

"Sure," I shrugged, "why not?"

"Okay," he grinned at me. "Do you know how to cycle? There's this really awesome hideout and I have _got _to show you it."

"Does anyone else know about it?" I asked, curious about anything secretive. I didn't know why, but I kept having this urge to know everything about everyone. I loved that smug feeling I always got when I knew something someone else didn't.

"No," he smirked. "You're the first person I'm showing."

"Why?"

"What do you mean by 'why'?" he frowned at me in confusion.

I explained, "Why are you showing me?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "You're just the type of person who would like it. Anyone else would probably laugh that I have a secret hideout. It's the type of things girls have and I don't want to ruin my awesome reputation."

"Great," I grinned. This was an opportunity for more secrets. "I'll just call my mom in case I've got anything planned with her."

"Yeah, you go and do that," he waved his hand dismissively. "She'll probably let you come. According to what you've said, you're mom seems really nice."

"She is," I lied. Obviously I wouldn't tell him that my mom was a wanted assassin that nobody knew the name of. He nodded and then walked away, towards his other friends. I whipped out my phone and started dialling Mom's number.

"Hello?" her voice asked on the other side.

"Hey Mom," I said. "It's me. I just wanted to ask if I could go over to a friend's house afterschool."

"Is your friend a boy or a girl?" she answered my question immediately with a question.

I sighed and mentally rolled my eyes. "Mom, does it really matter?"

"Yes," she replied. "Now answer my question properly."

"He's a boy."

There was silence for a few moments before she said finally, "Then no."

"Aw, come on, Mom," I whined. "What's wrong with him being a guy?"

"There's nothing wrong with him being a guy… but you can't be with him alone."

"This is so unfair," I groaned. "It's not like he's going to kiss me."

"Yeah, but it is possible," Mom countered. "Morgan, what's his name?"

"It's Dillon," I said, "spelled D-I-L-L-O-N. He hates it when people spell it D-Y-L-A-N."

Mom sucked in a breath. "What's his surname?"

"Abrams," I said, wondering what the big problem was.

She gulped a little, before instructing clearly, "Morgan, you can'tgo over to his house."

"Why can't I?"

"You just… can't, M," she repeated.

"But-"

She hung up on me. Ugh! I was so annoyed with her right now! Why couldn't I go to my friend's house? It's not like he's going to rape me! It's my life and I could do what I wanted with it. She couldn't dictate my life out for me. I _was _going to go to Dillon's house and his secret hideout whether she like it or not.

The rest of the day flew by, insanely quickly. Nothing much happened during the day, apart from me telling Dillon that my mom was letting me go and the boring lessons. I wasn't really the geeky type of person, but due to Grandma's advanced extra lessons, I was ahead of everyone else and I spent my time doodling.

When the school bell finally rung signalling the end of the day, Dillon sauntered over to me. We walked through the parking lot. He grinned, "You ready?"

Oh no. There was Mom, standing outside our car and waiting for me. She knew me well, despite not being there much, so she knew I'd probably try to go to Dillon's house anyway.

"Yeah," I answered hastily, "but let's rush to get to your house because, uh… I really can't wait!"

"Alright," he agreed, smirking at my eagerness.

"Uh, let's go around here," I said taking a detour around the car park and dragging Dillon with me.

"But it would be quicker if we just cut across," he complained, confused.

"Yeah, well-"

Then Mom flicked her head towards my direction and we locked eyes, blue against green. I broke the contact almost straight away, but I knew it was already too late. She was running towards us as I yelled, "Ditch the detour and run!"

I sprinted towards the gates and Dillon was right by my side, being the most athletic in the class. We were far ahead of Mom, due to the many cars between us and her. Unfortunately, she had all that Circle training and was beginning to catch up.

"Why are we running?" Dillon shouted as we turned around the corner onto the road.

I panted back, "I lied! My mom doesn't want me to go to yours!"

"Why? Is it something I did?" he asked.

I tried to shrug, but while sprinting at full pelt, I didn't get very far with it. "It's nothing I know of. But when she heard your name, she got a bit freaked."

"What's her name?" he asked.

"It's Cammie Morgan," I replied instantly as we turned onto 'North Bellis Street'.

He looked surprised. "You don't share the same surname?"

"No…" I realised the flaw in my lie and promptly made something up. "I use my dad's even though my parents got a divorce. Anyway, do you know my mom?"

He racked his memory. "I've never heard of her."

"That's odd."

"Yeah it is," I agreed, risking a glance behind me. Mom was only a few houses away from us now. I filled Dillon in. "She's catching up!"

"Don't worry," he said and tugged my hand suddenly, pulling me in another direction. "We're here."

He went to the door and rang the bell, which was right next to two big gold plated numbers – 66 – the house number. Someone opened it – a woman, about Mom's age, with short blonde hair. She smiled warmly and I instantly categorised her as one of those people who you couldn't hate, even if you tried.

"Oh, here you are, Dillon!" she glanced at me, and then turned back to her son, her mouth crinkled into a grin. "And who's your friend?"

"This is Suzie," he introduced. "Suzie, this is my mom, Dee Dee."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs Abrams," I said graciously with the most dazzling smile I could manage. I held my hand out for her to shake. She ignored it and pulled me into a hug instead, which I felt surprised at. I peeked over her shoulder at Dillon, who looked red with embarrassment at his mom.

When we finally broke apart, I noticed a figure waiting nervously behind a car, almost like she was hiding. I wondered what that was about. However, it wasn't me who spoke to her. It was Dee Dee.

"Cammie, is that you?" she gasped in surprise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone, it's J here! I've got the new chapter here, but I just want to warn everyone that I'm going on holiday for Easter - three weeks - so there'll probably be a three week gap at some point! Not in this chapter, but I thought I might just warn you all. Sorry! Signed, J.**

**Cammie's POV**

"Cammie, is that you?" she exclaimed, squinting at me as though she couldn't quite believe it. Not being able to hide, I stepped out from behind the car and made my way towards Dee Dee with my arms spread wide in greeting.

I put on a huge smile and said loudly, "Dee Dee, long time, no see!"

"It's been, what, twelve years since I last saw you!" she smiled. "Last time you were almost kissing that guy and then you hid in the bathroom and ran away from him – sorry, I can't remember his name!"

"That's fine," I laughed tightly, not liking being reminded about Zach. "We're over, so I couldn't care less about him. Anyway, how are you and Josh?"

"We're married," she held up a hand to show a diamond ring. "See?"

"Congratulations. When was the big day?"

"Oh, ten years ago," she explained. "I was pregnant with Dillon, so we decided to bring him up as married parents."

"Sorry I couldn't come," I apologised, recalling that among the hundreds of emails, there was email sent from Josh with an invitation. "I dropped that email address a long time ago and I only checked it a few days ago."

"It's okay," Dee Dee said, leading Morgan and I inside her house. It was the same one that Josh lived in when I was dating him. He even kept the bin – the one which Liz, Macey, Bex and I searched through to find out more about Josh and whether he liked me. Then Dee Dee said something, reminding me that I was supposed to be talking to her, not observing my surroundings. "What about you? Are you with anyone?"

"No, not really," I shrugged as though I didn't care, as though the last person I dated wasn't the guy I swore to kill.

Morgan piped in, "She's still in love with my dad."

"No, M," I glanced at her, annoyed, "I am _not _in love with your dad."

"You're obviously in denial," Dee grinned, taking Morgan's side.

I turned to Dillon. "Come on. Back me up here."

"No, for two reasons," Dillon held up both of his hands as a way of apologising. "A) I've only just met you, and B) I'm a guy. I have no idea about 'feelings' or whatever else girls talk about."

"Ugh!" I groaned loudly. "Can't I find any peace in this whole damned town?!"

"I'd have to agree with whoever said that," a voice called from upstairs. A few seconds later, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs and started to descend towards us. He was about 5'10" and was with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes that I knew anywhere.

"Josh?" I asked.

He came to an abrupt halt and he stopped walking to stare at me. He gasped, "Cammie?"

I cracked into a smile. "It's nice to see you again."

"Yeah," he replied awkwardly. "So… uh… what are you doing in Roseville?"

"Oh, we came to live here," I explained. "This is my daughter, Suzie."

Josh looked surprised. "You called your daughter… Suzie? Like… your fake cat, Suzie?"

Oh yeah… that was what sounded so familiar when I had chosen that name for my daughter.

"How did you guys know each other?" Morgan asked, tilting her head to one side.

I bit my lip and Josh and I exchanged glances. Josh said finally, "We dated for a while, back in sophomore year."

"Gross!" Dillon pulled a face.

Morgan, however, looked intrigued. "Why did you break up?"

The answer to her question came from Dee Dee, before I work up some sort of convincing excuse. "She turned to out to be a Gallagher girl."

Dillon recoiled from me as though I had a contagious disease. His face was aghast with horror as he gasped, "You went to Gallagher Academy?"

"Uh… yeah, I went to Gallagher."

Recognition flashed across his face. "You're that girl who pretended she was home-schooled and had a cat called Suzie!"

Morgan was slowly processing this information and no doubt storing it in her memory for a later time. She said slowly, "Let me get this right. You went to Gallagher Academy."

"Gallagher isn't the snobby school everyone makes it out to be," I preached, but the only reaction I got was Dillon snorting in disbelief. Well, they would never know the truth about it and I wouldn't be the one to blurt out its secrets. So instead of getting all offended that they didn't believe me, I simply brushed it off by saying, "Some of us can be okay."

"When pigs fly," Dillon retorted. "Anyway, we'll leave these three old friends to catch up on twelve years of not seeing each other and go on a bike ride, right Suzie?"

Morgan took a moment to realise that he was talking to her, before brightening and exclaiming, "Great idea! Let's go!"

**Morgan's POV**

"Phew," I breathed, once we out of our parents' earshot. "I thought we were going to listen to them blab on and on and on. I was dying in there."

"Well, we couldn't let that happen," Dillon grinned. He led me into his garage where there were four bikes tied together with a lock and chain. Dillon fished a key from his pocket and quickly unlocked it. He gave me the handle of one of them. It was totally pink and purple with ribbons and a basket, but it was light and seemed well worth however much Dillon's dad had to pay for it.

"Whose bike is this?" I asked, gesturing to the ribbons.

"My sister, Emma," Dillon explained. "She's younger than me a couple of years, but she's almost as tall, so I guessed you'd be her size. If you don't want it, you can take my mom or dad's."

I glanced over at the adult sized bikes and shook my head. "I'm fine with this. So where is your secret hideout place?"

"You'll see," he smirked. "But it's in the woods, so be keep to the path I made."

I nodded and we set off, pedalling towards the woods. Dillon seemed to know exactly where we were going, which told me two things. A) I was definitely not going to get lost, which was a good thing. And B) Dillon had obviously gone to this hideout many times before, which was a bad thing if he was the only one who knew about it. Did he really have nothing better to do in his life?

We continued into the forest, delving deeper in than I thought we'd have to. But we finally arrived at the destination. Dillon looked so proud of it, and I supposed it lived up to my expectations. It was a secluded clearing, with enough space for the sun to come shining through, yet small enough to be enclosed and cosy. Under the shade of one of the tall trees, there was a log, which had been carved into a seat. I wondered how he had made it that shape.

"Wow," I breathed. "This place is awesome."

"Oh, you think this is cool? This isn't even the hideout," Dillon grinned mischievously and I raised my eyebrows. He pulled on a branch like it was a lever and I shrieked as the ground underneath me swung downwards and I fell into a deep hole, approximately two metres deep. Above me, Dillon laughed at my discomfort and started climbing down a ladder into the hole. He pulled some other lever and the trapdoor rolled back into its original position, leaving us in total darkness.

"Where are we?" I whispered once he landed on the floor next to me, afraid that if I made too much noise something bad would happen – it was stupid and I should have known better because of my experiences with the Circle, but it was a spur of the moment thing.

"I have no idea," Dillon smiled, showing all his pearly white teeth, "but wherever it is, it's cool. Come this way."

He tugged on my hand and dragged me in a direction, which was when I realised that we weren't in a hole. We were in a tunnel. At first, we were feeling our way along, but after a while, Dillon remembered he was carrying a torch (or flashlight) in his pocket. He pulled it out and turned it on, so that the tunnel was filled with a white-bluish light. When I glanced at Dillon's face, I saw that it was filled with excitement. Mine probably reflected the same thing, except I was slightly nervous too.

"Oh, look," Dillon exclaimed and he stopped walking, causing me to collide with him. We fell on top of each other in a heap. After standing up himself and flicking a light switch, he helped me up and I looked around us. It was some sort of cave, made out of hollowed soil. It was a bit disgusting really, but at that moment, I was too amazed to care. Placed around the room were four beanbags and a huge – almost lifetime – supply of sweets, chocolate and fizzy drinks. I picked one up and opened the wrapper.

"You might not want to eat that," Dillon warned. "I put some new sweets and stuff here, but the stuff in that corner was here before I came. It might be ten years old!"

"Ewww, that's disgusting!" I squealed, promptly dropping the sweet back onto the large pile. Then I realised what Dillon had just said. "There were other people using this place before you did?"

"Yeah," Dillon shrugged nonchalantly. "This place was filthy, though. There were spider webs and dust _everywhere._ You have no idea how long I spent tidying this place up."

"Well, it doesn't matter who made this place," I said, beaming at my friend. "This has to be the coolest underground hole I have ever seen."

"Thank you," Dillon said graciously, taking a bow.

**Cammie's POV**

"Well, I really must get going now," I said after we shared yet another awkward silence and stood up to leave. I could easily tell that Dee Dee and Josh were relieved at what I had just announced. They weren't being unfriendly or cruel; it was just one of those awkward moments when you haven't seen someone for years and you didn't know what you could or couldn't talk about without that person getting offended or upset. It was even worse that I was Josh's ex and he was now married.

"It was nice seeing you again," Dee Dee said politely. "I'll make sure Suzie gets home safely, once they come back from their bike ride."

"Thanks," I smiled. "So… I'll see you around some other time, okay?"

"Yeah, it was great having you here," Dee Dee said. "You should come around again."

"I will," I promised, even though all of us were secretly wishing I wouldn't.

Then I left their house and began the journey back home, stopping at Morgan's school to pick up the car. My mind was still reeling when I arrived in the safety of our house. I had seen two more people from my past and had spoken to them for over two hours. It was crazy.

There was nothing on TV and I really didn't feel like reading any books, so I logged onto my old email account, predicting that there would be nothing more except for Macey's weekly updates.

I was wrong.

Suddenly remembering the irrational action I had taken after Bex's wedding, I realised why. Everyone had sent an email – apart from Liz, I realised with a pang. Was she alright? How could I live with myself now that I had shot her? Why had I been so cruel? Why had I done that to sweet innocent Liz? I had to be the bitchiest friend ever. It was no wonder that my friends had stopped visiting me when I had my mental breakdown. I deserved all the pain that I got from Zach, from being abandoned, from everything. I deserved everything I got.

I opened Macey's one first, my heart aching heavily in my chest. It said: _Cammie, of __**course **__she loved your present. Only you would put bullets in there with 'Baby Newman' on them. But I just wish you could have seen how happy Bex was when she found out you came to the wedding, even though you didn't stay for the reception. Maybe if you saw her happiness, you'd come back. OMG, I just realised that if you check your emails, you've read everything I've emailed. EMBARRASSING! You've got to delete them before anyone else reads them! PS. Joe is in hospital because he was on a mission to infiltrate the Circle's base and was found out, but he told me to tell you that he really wants you to come back home._

Joe was the guy who tried to gain access to the Circle's secrets? I remember there was a CODE BLACK and I was part of the Alpha Team, who was sent to shoot him down. Oh God, I may have shot my godfather…

Mom's one was sent yesterday and it went like: _Cammie, I can't believe you were at Bex's wedding and we didn't even realise! Everyone there was part of some sort of spy agency, yet no one noticed! You must get all the best spy traits from both your parents! It's my birthday soon, you know, and can you guess what would be the __**best **__birthday present? You coming back; it's pretty much the only thing I want._

I couldn't manage that… but I definitely would send her some sort of birthday present.

_Cammie, I didn't know you __**that **__well, _said Grant's, _but you were always like a twin sister to me. And thanks for making my wife – still not happy about being tied to one woman for life, btw – the happiest person ever on our wedding day. And I'm just hoping you'll pull some more surprise visits, because you've made everyone who was at the wedding (including the Director!) look like idiots and I want a rematch!_

That sounded so… Grant. It made me smile to see that his personality was still the same.

_CAMERON ANN MORGAN,_ _YOU ACTUALLY CHECKED THE EMAIL ADDRESS! WE SHOULD HAVE A PARTY! AND I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY CAME TO MY WEDDING! I WAS LITERALLY DANCING AROUND THE ROOM! NOW THE NEXT STEP IS JUST GETTING YOU HOME, BECAUSE WE KNOW YOU'RE ALIVE!_

And there went Bex's one. I should have guessed that it had the ritual capital letters, like always. I was about to click the next one, when I realised it was Zach's. My mouse hovered over it, while I wondered whether to click it or not. I decided to put the choice off until I finished Jonas'.

Next up was Jonas'. _Dear Cammie, I'm happy you pulled in for Bex's wedding, I really am, but I __**need**__ to know: __**did you shoot my family? **__These past few days have been __**torture **__for me. You have no idea how it feels to have your heart, the reason you live, ripped away from you. If it weren't for Arianne, I would be committing suicide right now. Or I would be getting revenge, but I'm not that sort of person._

By the time I finished reading it, I was in tears. It was so similar to the situation I was in, eleven years ago. The reason I woke up every day, the love of my life, wasn't mine anymore. I would have committed suicide too, if it weren't for Morgan… and the fact that I _was _the revengeful type of person.

But for Jonas, it wasn't just a 'boyfriend cheating on girlfriend' situation. It was a 'wife dying because of best friend' situation. The guilt of what I had done was suffocating me. Why, oh why, had I done it?

Now, I didn't feel like just the worst friend in the history of bitchy friends, but I also felt like I was the worst person in the history of people altogether. I felt like I deserved the most miserable life anyone could ever wish upon me. I didn't deserve any of my loyal, believing friends or my loving mother or my beautiful daughter. I went into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror, and I felt was disgusted at what I saw. I didn't deserve to look like anyone else. I should look like the murderer I was. I should be branded as a killer or be covered in slime or something that will let everyone in the world know what a terrible person I was.

I hated myself. I was despicable. I was… I was evil.

I should be stopped. Without even thinking it through, I brought out a sharp razor that was meant for if I was attacked. I drew two lines across my left wrist, not going in deep enough to lose _too _much blood and not close to any arteries, but it stung and hurt like hell. I watched unblinkingly as blood streamed down my arm and dripped off my elbow, hitting the bathroom tiles. I bit my lip with pain, but at that moment, I felt like I needed that pain. I deserved it.

But it didn't take away any guilt.

Then as the realisation of what I had just done began to slowly sink in, I quickly washed my arm and tightly wound a bandage around it. I mopped up the floor and covered all traces or clues, feeling close to despair. I was having a mental breakdown.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone, here's the next chapter of I Want Revenge where you discover something you don't expect! Hope you like it! J**

**Cammie's POV**

"Wake up, Morgan!" I lightly shook my daughter. "Rise and shine!"

"Mom, I don't want to wake-" Morgan said groggily. She opened one eye and stared at me with it, before suddenly grabbing my hand and demanding, fully alert, "Why have you got a bandage wrapped around your wrist?"

My eyes widened as I realised that my sleeve had caught on my bracelet when I was waking Morgan up, revealing the bandage underneath. At once, I snatched my arm back and snapped crisply, "It's none of your business, Morgan."

"Yes, it is," she glared at me. "You're my mom, so of course it's my business." Then she frowned as the gears circulated in her mind and she went through the possibilities of what could have happened to me. The realisation dawned on her as she gasped, "You slit your wrists, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," I denied immediately, but under her intense gaze, I couldn't form the words to make up an excuse. I thought about how weird I felt this week, how… different. I had become so much more emotional and it was making me feel like an amateur. It must have been a result of spending too much time with my daughter. Finally, I sighed and said quietly, "Don't become an assassin when you grow up, M. Sometimes the guilt gets to you."

She stared at my bandages for a while longer and I had no clue about what was going on in her mind. Catching me by surprise, she exclaimed angrily, "Well, the Circle will force me into the job, whether I like it or not! It's not like I'll have much choice in the matter!"

"I will make sure you will never become an assassin," I promised fiercely, letting my passionate emotions get to me. "I'd die sooner than let them take you."

She held both hands up as though backing away from me. She looked at me, aghast, like I was an alien. "Okay, Mom! No need to get dramatic!"

"I'm not getting dramatic," I insisted, wondering whether I was going a bit mad. I should really go into therapy again. "I would truly give up my life to ensure your safety."

"Okay, that's slightly creepy."

Not liking what she said, I tossed her duvet off her. "Now get off the bed, you lazy pile of bones!"

"Alright, alright," she muttered, climbing out for a new day.

* * *

**Catherine's POV**

"Catherine," Joseph Cavan looked at me coldly, "you have breached the rules of the Circle."

"And may I ask how I did so, Joseph?" I asked politely, tilting my head slightly to the side as though I didn't know what he was talking about. But I knew and everyone else knew that I knew. Nevertheless, Joseph took this opportunity to condemn me.

"You gave Agent Morgan two months' worth of leave off work to spend time with her daughter," he said disdainfully, as if it was something to be ashamed of. "The rules clearly state that the top assassins of the Circle are only allowed two weeks of holiday per annum. The rest of the Board isn't happy about your 'leniency' towards the Morgan woman."

Trying not to sound desperate (though it was in vain), I said, "She was a workaholic for eleven years. Surely she deserved a longer break!"

"No," Cavan said bluntly, before smiling at me cruelly. "It seems to me as though you've even developed… a liking for this woman. Have you?"

"Of course not," I denied it immediately, dismissing the idea like I was disgusted. "I show no favouritism whatsoever to anyone in the Circle, especially to Agent Morgan. I show liking to none in the same way that I show mercy to none. Just because I'm the only woman on the Board doesn't mean that I get emotional. It would be incredibly sexist to say so."

"You were heard calling her your daughter in your daily chats and, at one point, you even ordered her to take leave off work," Governor Winters accused. "She was the one who wanted to keep working, but you insisted that she should have a holiday. Do you, perhaps, show favouritism because she is the mother to your granddaughter?"

"As I have stated before," I said patiently, treading carefully around my wording, "I do not show any favouritism to Agent Morgan."

Joseph ignored me. "Catherine, we have chosen to be merciful in the way that we will deal with your crime. The woman can have her holiday, but if you step one toe out of line again, be it that you even use your pet name 'daughter' when speaking to Agent Morgan, you will be forced to watch as we shoot her. Your granddaughter's death will follow after Agent Morgan's. Are we understood?"

"I really couldn't care less about Agent Morgan and her daughter," I said boldly, trying to appear unafraid and strong. The people sitting around this table were a collection of the most evil masterminds in the world. They loved backstabbing each other and would jump at the chance to see me in pain. To them, watching others in pain gave them more happiness than sex, and before Cammie had come along, distraught and pregnant, I shared their cruel sense of humour.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to say. The only reactions that sentence got were a smirk from Winters, raised eyebrows from Cavan and disbelieving looks from everyone else. One person even started laughing openly at me.

"If you couldn't care less," Governor Winters said smugly, choosing to say what everybody in the room was thinking, "then why don't we just kill the little girl now? We have no use for her. There is no point in keeping a little girl who gives us no benefit and could only act as a threat to us and a waste of our food and accommodation. How should we kill her? Perhaps we should kill through the traditional gun? Or perhaps a hanging will be more enjoyable."

"No!" I shouted, standing up suddenly. Looking around at their laughing faces, I realised why they had said it in the first place. It was all a joke to them; they really didn't care about me. They found it hilarious to see me discomforted like this.

Joseph was the first to become serious once more. He said, "Remember, Agent Morgan must visit her therapist, even though she's on holiday. She's no use to us with her thoughts to herself, is she?"

"No, she isn't," I agreed, though inside I felt guilty that I had to manipulate Cammie, yet again. She hadn't been thinking straight since she first came to the Circle: every day she'd have 'therapy' sessions with Dr Steve. If only she didn't have it… she wouldn't even have wanted to be a murderer in the first place…

* * *

**Cammie's POV**

"Hello?" I picked up the phone and brought it to my ear.

"Hello Cameron," Catherine's voice came through the receiver. "How are things going in Roseville? Is everything normal? Are you bonding with your daughter?"

"I don't know," I confessed uneasily, feeling grateful that I had the chance to have another talk with Catherine. "Usually, I'd be going around like a cold robot, but for the past few days, I've been feeling a bit… off. It's like I've been on drugs for years and years and now I've stopped. It's really unusual. I think it's the therapy. I haven't been thinking right since my therapy session was due. I've been getting all emotional and stuff… I've been thinking about things I never used to question… like whether or not to kill Zach."

There was a pause on the other side. Then Catherine spoke. "Well, I've sent Dr Steve over to Roseville for a counselling session. I thought you might need it. He should be on his way to your house right now."

"Thanks a lot, Catherine," I said happily. Then I hung up on her and waited for Dr Steve's arrival.

* * *

**Macey's POV**

"Okay, class," I announced to the group of girls gathered outside the mansion, "today with off on a CoveOps trip to Roseville! Now, let's go."

"Uh… Miss McHenry?" one of them raised their hand. "Where's the minivan?"

I glanced at her with amusement and began to laugh. "Oh, that's funny! You all thought we were going by van!"

"If you thought you were going to get out of P&E training this morning, you were wrong!" Bex declared and walked out of the mansion towards us, flanked by Grant, Jonas and Zach – Nick and Rachel were covering the other years' classes for Bex and I. The students groaned. "We're running to town today."

"Well, technically," Zach said, "we're running three quarters of the way to town. We can't let the civilians see the snobby Gallagher kids running, so we're hiring a limo."

"And I'll be driving it," Jonas said.

The same girl as before put her hand up again. "Miss McHenry, why are wearing our uniform? Wouldn't it be easier to blend in with our own clothes?"

"It would be easier, yes," I agreed, "but this time, you've got other unfair advantages. The objective of this mission is to successfully tail Grant, Zach, Bex or I. That means there will be two of you tailing each of us and two helping Jonas with the technical side of things. By the end of today, you should know exactly what we bought. The advantages are that you know what we look like – we won't be changing any clothes – and you can listen in on the bugs we have placed on ourselves."

"Now start running," Bex ordered and after some groaning and protesting, the girls did what she said.

* * *

**Cammie's POV**

After Dr Steve had left the house, I headed towards the high street, feeling normal again. It was nice having no more emotions swirling in my mind. The street was quite busy and it felt strangely relaxing… until I saw a stretch limo pulling up on the side of the road. There was no doubt about who had just arrived here: the Gallagher girls.

Then, to my absolute shock, I realised who the teachers were. Out of the car stepped the whole gang, apart from Nick and Liz. Hopefully, my Chameleon skills were working up today. Trying hard to act calm and relaxed, I walked past them. They didn't notice me. Phew.

"Right, good luck everybody," Macey said to the ten students.

After that, the adults, except for Jonas, spilt up and headed in different directions. Half a minute later, the students followed. It was a frightening prospect, having them on the same street as I was especially because I was without a disguise at the moment, but I knew it would be even more conspicuous if I suddenly ran off. So I had to stay.

I was in a supermarket buying groceries at the same time as Bex was. We even passed each other in the same aisle. But fortunately, she was too busy worrying about how to throw the students off the scent and my Chameleon skills were good enough (they were even better than my career at the CIA, due to my Circle training) to stop the five of them from seeing me. Zach came to join Bex and leaned his head closer to hers, while he fixed her with an intense gaze.

"Bex," I heard him whisper to her, "I have the strangest feeling right now. And I only feel like this when Cammie is near… it's like I automatically know where she…"

Then he trailed off as he looked up and locked eyes with me. If I had looked down quick enough, I would have been in the clear, but at the time, it was like the rest of the world fell away and it was only us two, staring at each other. Every moment I ever had shared with Zach seemed to flash in front of my eyes. I broke the eye contact a second later, but it was a second too late. I turned and ran towards the door of the supermarket.

"Wait!" he cried, running towards me. Bex was right behind him, shouting into her earpiece at Macey, Grant and Jonas, presumably. The four girls who were tailing Bex and Zach began running too, wondering why their teachers were making themselves so obvious.

On the high street, Macey and Grant were coming towards me. I turned to run in the other direction, but Bex, Zach and Jonas were blocking the exit in that direction too. All other ways were being closed off by the students. I did the only thing I could.

I pulled out a gun and aimed it at a girl, but only discreetly, so that the civilians couldn't see. My hand wasn't shaking; it was perfectly steady, I was pleased to see.

I stared at Zach, pained. "I told you to never touch me again, Goode. I meant it. I've already shot my best friend and her daughter. Believe me; I don't want to shoot more of my best friends or any kids."

"Why can't you return home?" Zach asked desperately.

I said emotionlessly, "I can't."

"But why can't you?" Bex stepped forward.

I spun around, aimed the gun at her and yelled, "I said, back off! Just stay away from me and my daughter!"

"You've… you've got a daughter?" Zach looked so betrayed that I almost told him that the child was his, but I refrained at the last moment. It would just give them even more reason to find me.

"So what if I do? So what if I've got a family now?" I asked defensively, speaking to him, only to him. Then I looked at all of them. "I want you all to go back to Gallagher or the CIA and tell everyone else on your mission that I don't want you to find me."

The girl I was aiming at again looked scared out of her wits, but it was effective. If it weren't for my therapy with Dr Steve, I wouldn't have been able to aim at her without feeling guilty. None of my friends stepped forward in fear for that girl's life. They all started to back away slowly.

"Jonas?" I said, before they were out of earshot.

He looked up at me miserably, "Yes, Cammie?"

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

He paused, as though wondering whether I meant it or not. Then he slowly nodded. And with that, they all walked away. Hopefully they'll stay away.

* * *

**Bex's POV**

We drove back to the school in silence, too solemn and gloomy to make the girls run. They weren't even happy about it though. They were still in shock, especially the girl who Cammie had aimed the gun at. She was shivering in terror. I think they were finally starting to grasp how serious the real world was. It wasn't just made up of CoveOps missions and finals. It was full of death and danger.

"Miss McHenry?" one of the girls asked from the back of the limo.

Macey didn't turn around as she asked, "Yes? What is it?"

"Who was that woman?"

There was a silence as we all shared glances. We also knew that it would be annoying for them, because it was the usual scenario of the adults refusing to tell the kids anything, but in this instance, they were much better off not knowing. They didn't need to know, and if they did, they would be heartbroken, probably. Everyone knew that the Chameleon was declared missing eleven years ago and soon after, the CIA told everyone she was dead, not wanting anyone to get their hopes up and dreading the worst.

Then again, it wasn't the worst that could happen. She could have become a prostitute or something else equally as shameful. The CIA didn't want to tell anyone that one of its legacies had gone evil, for fear of their reputation. So instead, they said she was dead, to clear everything up and let Cammie's name be left as the name of a legend.

When we finally arrived back at Gallagher, we directed the girls to go into the hall for lunch. They obliged, filing in silently with their heads looking towards their feet as though they were grasping the fact that they could have died today. All eyes turned towards us (it seemed to happen so many times nowadays that it was beginning to seem _normal_). Everyone was interested to see why the ten girls looked so miserable.

"What happened?" Rachel demanded.

Jonas spoke up, his voice rippling with quiet anger. "We almost had her. We almost had her and then she threatened to kill Jodie with a gun."

Rachel gave a sharp intake of breath. "You don't mean you saw-"

"Yes," Zach cut her off, not meeting her eyes. "We saw her."

"She'd… she'd never shoot a sophomore year," Rachel said hesitantly.

Jonas said bitterly, "Yes, she would. She shot my wife and daughter!"

"Oh, God," she breathed, holding a shaking hand over her mouth. "She didn't…"

"She did," I confirmed, feeling my heart break a little as I said the words. "She told us so."

She breathed deeply for a few moments, letting the words sink in. "I… I can't believe… that she'd shoot a little girl… let alone her best friend…"

"I know," I agreed softly, but before anything else could be said, the alarm started blaring.

It was CODE BLACK.

**One more thing... SHOULD LIZ LIVE? Review and tell me what should happen with her!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Morgan's POV**

Really, I should have asked him. But right now, I just wanted to escape from school, and more importantly, my mom. I knew I'd probably get into a lot of trouble for bunking off lessons, but I really couldn't care less about the stuff we were learning right now. I had covered it ages ago with my grandmother. School hardly mattered to me.

After I pulled the branch lever, I descended the dusty ladder into darkness. My torch shone brightly, illuminating the creepy soil walls that seemed to close in on me, but I didn't feel affected by them. I edged slowly down the tunnel towards the hollowed room, Dillon's awesome hideout. Once I finally arrived there, I scanned the walls for the light switch and flicked it on. With a sigh, I leaned against the wall to think about the dramatic changes in my life ever since Mom came to live with me…

And I shrieked. The wall wasn't a wall at all – it was a door, which had just creaked open under my weight, making me fall through.

As you might have imagined, I was intrigued. I turned my torch on once more and it guided my way down yet another narrow tunnel. This one was a lot muddier than the previous and much longer too. It was even narrower and I felt lucky that I was only ten years of age. Had I been, say, six years older, this tunnel would have barely let me fit through and at some places, I'd even have to shuffle along, sideways. Luckily, I was sure there had been no one else in this tunnel recently, let alone now. I got the gut instinct that this place had been abandoned at least five years prior.

However, I could also tell it wasn't ancient; there were areas on the floor which had less dust than others, where there were slight indents on the soft damp ground. It was obvious that any footprints that were made in here were to stay for a long time, which was not a good thing for me. Although there seemed like many pairs of feet, I could distinguish only four different footprint shapes and sizes. Only four people had walked through here for a long time.

I was so focused on analysing the footprints that I didn't even notice the dead end when it came. I rammed into some (strangely) hard wall, head first. Running my hand over the surface, I realised that had a wood texture. My hand probed all over the wood, feeling where it came into contact with the earthy walls. Then a sudden coldness hit my fingers. Shining my light upon it, I found a brass handle, ornately designed and looking as though it belonged to a mansion. _What an odd thing to put on a wall, _I thought, before feeling stupid.

It wasn't a wall, of course! It was a door, presumably leading to a building or outside. I pushed the handle and discovered that it opened – definitely a door! However, it was so much heavier than a normal door. I peered around the door and saw the reason why it seemed so heavy. The other side of the door was disguised as a book shelf. Then I turned to inspect the rest of the room.

It was some sort of library – that was for sure. After I took off my shoes and left them inside the tunnel (it wouldn't be good if I left prints for everyone to find), I walked up and down the aisles, examining the books. They had extremely unusual titles, such as _Covert Operations for Beginners. _I thought Covert Operations was some sort of spy thing! Once I looked around some more, though, I figured that this place must be some sort of government spy agency headquarters or a criminal base for assassins, similar to the Circle. I picked up _Hacking – the Basic Methods _and flipped through from the back. I was sure whoever the book belonged to wouldn't mind if I took it –

Suddenly my eyes caught on some words and I froze in shock. I had noticed the name which had been stamped onto the title page: _Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. _Why would Gallagher own a book like this? What was Gallagher Academy got to do with anything spy? It was merely a school for kids with rich parents who have no time for them and have too much money to know what to do with it!

Suddenly, an alarm bell started ringing harshly in my ears. It was time to go. Scared out of my wits and not thinking straight, I dropped the book on the floor and was about to flee back into my hiding place when I realised that I could find out more of this school's interesting secrets through the hacking book. After gathering it up again and listening for the sound of anyone approaching, I ran my fingers over more books, stopping on a couple of them for a few seconds while I wondered where more hacking books were. Eventually I found them and gathered the whole lot, but as I did, I could hear people arriving in the library and start searching for intruders. I dropped one of the books, but there was no time to pick it up, so I merely kicked it under a shelf, hoping that was enough.

Fortunately, I had enough time to reach the opening to the tunnel and close it behind me (it was a hard task, thanks to the huge pile of books I had), before anyone came near.

**Zach's POV**

"Code Black, everybody," Rachel yelled. "Just stay calm and wait here while we deal with the problem!"

"It was coming from the library, Headmistress," one of the guards updated her. "We had surveillance of an unknown girl entering the library and looking at our books. However, the cameras didn't catch how she infiltrated the school and its grounds. And we are sure she isn't from this school; she was wearing the Roseville's school uniform."

"Are you sure it was a girl, not a woman?" Rachel asked the guard for confirmation, who nodded and said that the girl looked about ten. Then Rachel turned to us and said, "You should go check out the library. I'll be there in a second – I just need to ask security a few more questions." Obeying her order, we all started sprinting towards the library immediately, still debating and talking while we ran.

Nick offered, "Maybe she used one of the school's tunnels. From what I've heard, there are a lot of them."

"Yes," Bex agreed, "she could've, but we can't remember all of them from our high school years! Heck, the only one who knew all of them were Cammie, and she's going on random shooting ravings right now!"

"Too far, Baxter," I growled threateningly, while everyone around me winced painfully as they recalled the events of earlier today. "Besides, that was only to us. I'm sure Cammie has a perfectly valid reason as to why she doesn't want us to come near her. It's not as though she's shot anyone else."

"I beg to differ," Jonas said, staring at me with an intense gaze, still full of raw pain and anguish. The only thing to stop him from crashing into anything as he ran was his spy skills. "You can go to the CIA infirmary if you want to see evidence."

"Dude, it's not my fault that she shot your wife and daughter. Cammie was the one who shot," I defended myself, but his gaze just intensified into a glare and he stopped suddenly in his tracks. I also halted and signalled for the others to continue running and that we'd follow later. They seemed reluctant, but when I said, "Think of us as back-up. We don't know how dangerous this girl might be and if there's someone else there." They seemed satisfied with my sentence and continued on their journey towards the library. Then I swivelled around to face Jonas and hissed, "Why do you think it was my fault?"

Jonas' icy voice shot daggers through me, but what he said next was much worse. "Look at you. You've been too obsessed about finding Cammie that you haven't noticed how much it comes at a cost for everyone else around you."

"What do you mean?" I frowned with puzzlement. "Everyone knows the risks that they have to take with this mission."

"But look where it's got everyone. Bex and Grant are missing the honeymoon which the girls had spent their whole school nights planning. Liz and my daughter are in hospital and Liz is probably not even going to survive. And you probably don't know this, because you've been too selfish to notice, but Macey's job is no the line. She is the boss, but the rest of her Board are getting fed up of her taking time off work for this mission!"

"They were the ones who chose to put everything at risk, not me," I argued, but I felt a little doubtful.

Jonas didn't back down. "But you were the one to encourage them. For the past eleven years, you've wanted Cammie back. You kept telling us to spend all our free time on searching for Cammie. That was the only reason we kept looking for her – because you wanted to and we're your friend. If it weren't for you, our lives could have gone as it was supposed to."

I looked at him in disbelief. "So you're saying that you don't want to find Cammie? That none of you really want her back?"

"Of course not!" he exclaimed. "Obviously I want Cammie back! We all do! But what I'm saying is you've wasted ten years of all our lives. We would still love Cammie like always, but we would finally move on. You stopped us from doing that and look where that has got us."

"But that's not the point! I didn't shoot Liz and Arianne. Cammie did."

Jonas raised his eyebrows. "And why did she leave in the first place?" My breath hitched and, knowing he was onto something, he smiled grimly, "You're the reason she left, and we both know it! If she didn't leave, everything would be fine, but you just decided to cheat on her and smash her heart into a million tiny pieces! You're a heartless bastard, Zach!" I was about to protest my innocence, but he didn't let me say anything as he continued seemingly calm, "Before, I was blaming her for everything that has happened, but now that I've had the love of my life taken from me, I've realised that you're the guilty one. If I was her, eleven years ago, I might have gone crazy and run away too. See, everything traces back to you."

"So are you saying that you're going to leave the mission, then?"

"No," Jonas answered, to my surprise. "I don't want Liz's 78.34% chance of death or Arianne's 36.91% to be wasted. And I do want Cammie to be with us, I really do. What I want to make clear is that we aren't friends anymore. We can work alongside each other, but we won't be friends. We never will."

"You're just going to throw fifteen years of friendship down the drain?" I clarified, gazing at him in despair. "You're going to abandon everything we've been through?"

"Wrong," he said, and if it weren't for his flat cold tone of voice, my heart would have hoped that he would take it back. He didn't and just sighed in frustration. "Zach, there you go again. You shifted the blame on me. That's another thing you do. When someone pinpoints the blame on you, you just point at someone else."

"I do not!" I shouted. I could feel my skin heating up as my anger started bubbling, although I had no idea why I felt this way. I guess that countless nights without sleep were making me moody and irrational – two things that spies strived _not _to be. Realising that by shouting I wasn't helping myself, I told him, "Cammie does crazy things to me."

"There," he said sharply. "You did it, yet _again. _You blamed Cammie for your shouting but she doesn't make you crazy about her on purpose. You blamed her for shooting my family twice, even though it was your fault she left. And you blamed me of abandoning our friendship while the truth is, Zachary, I'm not the reason that I'm cutting it off. You are. Perhaps if you ignored your abnormally big ego for a moment and actually thought about it, you'd see that I'm right and you're wrong. But until you do something about it, I won't think of you as a friend – not an enemy, but definitely not a friend."

Again, my temper flared briefly as I retorted sarcastically, "Oh what, it's the end of the world when I blame you, but when you accuse me, it's suddenly alright."

"That's only because it's the truth," he said calmly and reasonably, before leaving me alone in the corridor with his words.

**Hey everyone, it is J here! Basically, I got this review from a guest (I'm not going to name and shame here) and their review said: **_Ur stretching this story for no reason, learn how to write a good story and not pointless chappies tht get u no where! Do wats best for the story cuz this should have been over a long time ago._

**At first, I have to admit, I was a bit annoyed with the whole thing, especially the 'learn how to right good story and not pointless chapters' part, but then I thought about it and I realised it was probably right. I don't know why I did pointless chapters though… Probably I just love this story so much – I don't want it to end!**

**But I also think it's because I had so many different ideas when I began and I didn't write any of them down until later on in the story. Now I've got a full detailed plan which I'm pretty proud about to be honest – 'cause I NEVER do planning. So my point is, if anyone was annoyed with any 'pointless chappies', fear no more! I'm not doing them anymore!**

**Love from J.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Bex's POV**

"Where's Zach?" I hissed as Jonas arrived. Meanwhile, I gestured for him to carefully make his way through the library and examine each aisle of books for the girl intruder. He nodded and obliged, whipping out a gun in case he was ambushed. Seeing as I didn't want or need a gun (Gallagher always said that guns were stupid and useless), I tossed him mine too. He understood not to complain. I snapped – but quieter than usual – "Jonas, I asked you a question! Where's Zach?"

Jonas bristled slightly at Zach's name for some reason, but explained steadily, "He'll come in a moment. I just left him thinking about something, that's all." His expression darkened as he scowled, "Perhaps he'll change his ways."

"What ways are you talking about? Did he do something-?" I was about to interrogate him more, but came screeching to a halt when I – and the rest of us, obviously – heard a noise… the sound of a door swinging shut. It wasn't loud enough to be considered a slam, but it was definitely something. Jonas and I glanced at each other simultaneously and raced towards the sound. Through the gaps in the books, I could see the others had heard it too and were also sprinting. We stopped, took a look around us and…

There was nothing there.

It was just an ordinary shelf of normal spy books. There was no door, no girl. All five of us glanced at each other with surprised looks, sharing socked expressions. How was this possible? Surely five highly trained professionals couldn't have merely imagined something this big! On the contrary, we couldn't have missed it – that's how loud it sounded to our ears! It was too big of a coincidence for us to have heard the same thing but it not have been true!

"Was it just me…?" Macey asked hesitantly, "Or did we all hear a door closing?"

"You're not the only one, Mace," Nick soothed, slinging a protective arm over her shoulder. Macey softened considerably at his touch and she tilted her head upwards to let her lips meet his. I felt a strangely overwhelming rush of happiness for my best friend. Until Nick came along, she was the awkward seventh wheel, perfectly capable of choosing any guy she wanted, but preferring to wait for the right man. Now she had found that man and she looked as madly in love as the rest of us. I was perfectly content to let her have her private time with him (as long as it didn't go _too_ far) and wait for their blissful moment to pass, but apparently, Grant had other ideas.

"Macey, Nick," he laughed at them lightly. "Do we really need to watch this porn movie? You know, I'd rather not watch it. Even _Titanic _is better than this and we all know how much I hate that soppy film."

Macey and Nick broke apart, both looking flustered and embarrassed, but they were still holding hands. Macey flipped Grant off and warned with humour, "Don't say anything against Titanic! It's a beautiful movie!"

"That's only because you're a stereotypical girl," Grant replied teasingly. "You're all soft and poetical like the rest of you."

"Don't be sexist," I chastised, punching him on the shoulder lightly. "We girls can be hard-hearted if we want! Anyway, we're trying to solve a mystery and you aren't exactly helping with your sexist remarks."

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty," he bowed in the traditional style, following Mme Dabney's instructions.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Racist jerk," but I said it loud enough for any spy to hear easily and Grant grinned widely in reply. Then I got to work, wearing my dead serious face to let everyone know that now wasn't the time to mess around and joke. A code black was rare and when it happened, it meant something dangerous was happening. It meant there were intruders and we had to take it with the utmost responsibility.

I noticed a book sticking out from under a shelf, but it wasn't dusty, meaning that whoever put it there did it really recently. First, I ordered Jonas to take the fingerprints from the book and scan them. Immediately he took the book and left with Nick to go to Jonas' computer, which he and Liz had modified to do impossible things. Then I told Grant and Macey to help me analyse the crime scene, to take in every detail. We weren't detectives, but we could sure do the job well when we wanted to.

We inspected every little inch of this area of the library, searching high and low for clues as to who the imposter was and what her purpose was. It wasn't too long after we started that Macey cried out, "Whoever was here took all the hacking books in the series! The only one they left is the one that Jonas has now!"

Immediately, Grant and I rushed to her side to see it for ourselves. She was right, of course. The whole series of eight books had disappeared. But why, I had no idea. It didn't seem as though a trespasser would break into a top notch security school just to steal some books about hacking.

While I was still pondering about this puzzle, Rachel burst into the library. She looked slightly out of breath, as though she'd run through the school grounds at top speed, and in her hand was a disk.

"I copied the surveillance footage onto this disk," she panted, waving it in the air. "We'll go and watch it on Jonas' computer. Perhaps his computer will have some sort of little device to identify the girl."

**Zach's POV**

Nobody asked where I had been, thankfully, because they were too preoccupied with the mystery surrounding the imposter. The truth wasn't pretty. I hadn't made some sort of secretly amazing discovery which would leave us out of misery. No, I had been crying in my private guest room. It was embarrassing and nothing in the world would force me to admit it to anyone apart from myself. If Grant found out, he wouldn't stop teasing me until I was long dead.

That wasn't to say I didn't deserve all the taunting and teasing from Grant. She loved me and I loved her. We were perfect for each other and so madly in love too. It was a one in a million type of love, like two pieces of a billion piece jigsaw puzzle fitting together flawlessly. It was amazing. What I said to Jonas was true; Cammie did crazy things to me, but all of them were good things. She made me want to be a better person, because I knew that not even the best person in the world deserved her love or even her attention. But I always tried to be the best person anyway, for her.

When she left for Mexico, I went crazy with worry. It was classified as highly dangerous, which usually meant that there was a sound chance the agent would get out with some sort injury. I wanted to jump onto a plane after her and pull her back into my arms. It was like this every time she went on a mission. But when Jonas and Liz informed me that the chances of her getting out _alive _were 29.87%, things were looking a lot worse for me.

Those days were horrible. Every day, I woke up wondering if Cammie was waking up too, or if she was laying somewhere, dead and cold. She was constantly plaguing my mind and all I could do was worry, worry, worry. Then, unable to bear the pain, I resorted to drinking. At first, it was only one or two pints of beer every night. However, when I found that Cammie was still on my mind, I started drinking more and more so that by the time one week had passed since she left for Mexico, I was drinking vodka every night, loads of it. Lots of times, I only left the pub because Grant and Bex dragged me out. Every morning, I'd wake up with killer headaches, but that wouldn't stop me from drinking even more when the evening came.

On the night when Cammie came home, Tina found out about my nightly expeditions to the club. She brought me back to my house, dragging me, like Grant and Bex did all those other nights. Then she suddenly changed tactic. She wasn't being rough and harsh anymore. She was kissing me. My brain was so fuzzy at the time that I couldn't even remember what having sex with her was like. I just remembered hallucinating and instead of Tina, Cammie was there. I remembered thinking that something was wrong with 'Cammie'. She didn't feel… right. But I was too drunk to notice or care too much about it.

There was a racket from downstairs and although it bugged me slightly, I wasn't about to stop with 'Cammie'. However, fear flashed across her eyes and she threw me off her, flicked off the light switch and hid in the wardrobe. I was confused. Why was 'Cammie' hiding in the wardrobe? What did she have to hide?

Another voice alerted me to someone else's presence, "Hi Zach." I spun around to face whoever it was and found Cammie glaring at me with puffy tear-streaked eyes. Her light touch of mascara was running and her hands were shaking. She looked so unhappy and if I wasn't so confused, I would have run to her and kissed her until she felt better. But she also looked angry. Her soft lips were pressed tightly together and she was taking deep breaths as though forcing herself to act calm.

"Um, hey Cammie," I blinked nervously, trying to figure out how Cammie was leaning against the doorway… and in the wardrobe at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"Busting you," she said coldly, to my shock. "Where's Tina?"

I nearly bit my lip at her emotionlessness. Why did she want Tina and why was she speaking to me so coolly? Did I do something wrong? "I don't know. Do you need her?"

"Yes," she raised an eyebrow. "I need her as proof that you've been cheating on me."

My mind was whirring at its slower drunken pace and I instantly defended myself, thanks to my instincts. "I haven't!"

"Come on out, Tina!" she called, slightly hysterically and Tina burst from the wardrobe with her clothes and ran from the room. At the time, I was so drunk that I didn't connect the dots. I still didn't realise that Tina was the one I had sex with.

Earnestly, I insisted, "Look, Tina and I weren't doing anything."

"Don't lie to me, Goode!"

"I didn't!"

She looked so furious, and yet she still managed to look hot as she kicked me in my highly sensitive private area. I was so bewildered and I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that my girl – the love of my life – was angry with me and I had to fix it. I just had no idea how. Before I could say anything, Cammie yelled at me, "OH DON'T YOU TRY THAT INNOCENT VOICE ON ME, GOODE! I KNOW ALL YOUR LITTLE TRICKS! WE ARE OVER! DO YOU HEAR?! _OVER!_"

That shut my big mouth up and I was silent. The words were ringing in my head and these were the only words which had a huge effect on me so far. But they weren't the last. "We're over… for real?"

She slid down the wall into a sitting position and tears ran down her cheeks. I felt so terrible; it was almost like I was the one crying, not her. She sobbed, "Yes. I can't believe you did that to me, Zach. I trusted you, I believed you and I loved you, and this is what I get? Zach, I loved you and I still do, but I can't trust you anymore. I can't let you take advantage of me like that. I can't let you cheat on me and then just give in to you again the next day."

"Gallagher Girl," I crooned softly, slowly shifting towards my girlfriend – now ex-girlfriend. I put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her, but something flashed in her eyes and she flipped me before stomping on my chest with all her strength. The physical pain had snapped me out of my drunken daydream.

What she warned next stayed in my head for the next eleven years, always in my head, always making me hate myself. "Never touch me again."

Until this morning, those were the last words she ever spoke to me. But somehow, what she said today was just as bad. She told me she had a daughter. She had a family. I felt so terrible and betrayed when she had said that, but more than that, I felt anger and hatred towards myself. Jonas was right. I should have had more faith that Cammie would beat the odds and come back home from Mexico safely, rather than waste away at the pub. I shouldn't have cheated on her, even when I was drunk and I thought Tina was Cammie. I was stupid and these past eleven years, I've caused everybody else a lot of pain.

**Morgan's POV**

"Morgan, what were you thinking?!" were the first words Mom said to me. There was no pleasantries, no big hug – only a scolding. "Running away was stupid! What did you think you'd gain from it?"

"Nothing, really," I replied darkly, still scowling at the fact Mom didn't seem to feel happy that I was home. It was… strange. For the past few days, she had been acting nice and now she was suddenly back into her all-criticise, no-praise personality.

"Well, don't do it again," Mom instructed. "The school called in to ask where you were and I had to make up some excuse about not knowing that I had to call in when you were sick. Why did you do it anyway?"

"I just needed some space," I sighed. "It was just too much… finding out you and grandma are assassins… flying over to Sydney and then coming back here… figuring out that you went to Gallagher and that you slit your wrists…"

"I do not," she denied it, but it wasn't with her usual vigour. This time she sounded so unemotional. "It was only once, because I let my feelings get caught up with me. I won't be doing that again."

"And she says emotion is a bad thing," I muttered, knowing fully that she could hear me easily. Then I spoke louder, "You ran away from your whole life, Mom. You can hardly say anything about me running for a few hours!"

"But now, we've caught the attention of the whole town. A girl running away is a huge thing in this place." She stared at me a moment longer, before gesturing to my clothes. "Where did you go? You're covered in mud and dirt! It's like you've fallen down a hole or something!"

I lied, "I was in the woods, just walking around and thinking about my life."

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't think you're telling the whole truth, Morgan. Where else did you go?"

"I fell down a hole into a tunnel and then I explored it," I said truthfully, knowing that my mom could weasel out secrets and lies from anyone and I didn't want to waste time denying things. "It led to Gallagher. You know… that school that you went to but never told me about?"

Her head jerked sharply. "You found a tunnel which led to the school? Was it the one with the branch lever or the one with the button under the log?"

"The branch lever," I said, before frowning. "There's more than one tunnel?"

"Don't try and make me tell you where the tunnels are," she warned. "I won't give up anything else about that school. It's bad enough that you found one. Now go and change your clothes. You look disgusting."

"Thanks a lot, Mom," I said sarcastically. "That really boosted my confidence."

"I'm not here to boost your confidence," she answered. "Now stay in your room until dinner. You're grounded for two weeks, and that includes seeing your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," I protested.

She cracked into a smile, the first I had seen since I came back home, "You're so alike me. You run away and you're always in denial."

"I am not in denial!" I crossed my arms over my chest.

She held up both hands in a sort of 'I'm-backing-away-now' sort of gesture. "Whatever."

Smiling at the thought of the woman downstairs resembling even a little of the Mom I know, I retreated to my room. I sat on the bed and did something I hardly ever did if I could help it: reading. I pulled out the first of the hacking books and brought out my laptop, ready for me to practise everything the books told me to.

**Macey's POV**

We shoved the disk with the surveillance on it into the computer. Jonas tapped a couple of keys and the CCTV started playing. All of us apart from Rachel erupted as soon as we saw the girl's face. It was the girl who was constantly under Cammie's supervision.

"It's her!" we all gasped.

Rachel nodded wisely, "And by 'her', I'm assuming you mean 'the girl who is always around Cammie'?"

"Yes," Zach nodded frantically, looking desperate for any information about Cammie, even if it was through the daughter of a stranger who Zach was dead jealous of. She really had no idea how much Zach loved her, did she? "She must be Cammie's daughter! Cammie told us about her!"

"Zoom into her face," Rachel ordered, and Jonas did so. Rachel examined the girl's face carefully, multiple expressions flashing across her face: amusement, wonder, surprise, and pure happiness. "She's definitely Cammie's daughter. But I wonder…" She glanced at Zach and then back at the girl on the screen. "Yes, that is very interesting indeed…"

"What is it?" Zach asked urgently. "You can tell us anything!"

Rachel raised an eyebrow (something all Cammie's family seemed able to do) and grinned at him. "No, it's not important. I think I'd rather keep it to myself. Besides, it seems more like something Cammie should tell you, rather than learning it from me. But there is one thing I can you tell you though…"

"What is it?" Zach asked, wide-eyed.

Rachel laughed. "I've got a granddaughter! I may have missed ten years of her life… but I'm still her grandmother!" We all looked happy for the older woman, who was dancing around the room goofily. It was hilarious. Sadly, Zach didn't seem to think so.

"People, we've got to find out more," he pressed everyone on. "We're almost there and I know we can find her."

Jonas looked at him with a sidelong glance and said in a tone which I couldn't quite place, "Oh look, Zach wants to work, again." To the rest of us, the words meant nothing, but the peevish look on Zach's face told a different story. And Jonas' voice… it was unusual. There was obviously a hidden message there, which was making the two of them feel tense around each other. Luckily, I wasn't the only one out of the loop. Everyone else was also staring at Zach and Jonas blankly.

"What's the girl wearing?" Rachel asked finally, pointing to the computer screen and making the tension in the room dissolve as everyone inspected Cammie's daughter's clothes. It was a school uniform that I was sure I had seen before…

"It's the Roseville School's uniform," Bex explained to everyone else, and it clicked. She was right. I had seen it countless times before. Why hadn't I remembered it?

"Well, now we know she goes to Roseville School," Nick said, "how about one of us poses as a teacher there to find out more about her?"

Grant nodded, "That's a good idea… but she knows all of our faces."

A voice spoke up from the doorway. "Then I'll do it."

We all turned towards her. It was Abby.

**Hey everyone! Thanks for reviewing! I was amazed to see them and I loved them all! And they totally filled me with confidence! You know, my week just went from **_**gloomy and boring **_**to **_**awesome and happy! **_**Thanks so much to everyone!**

**Oh yeah, before I forget I need to warn everyone that this is my last chapter for about three weeks or so because I'm going on holiday… :( But I'll try to squeeze one in tomorrow and if I can find a computer on holiday then I'll upload then too. So… see you guys later! J xxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm so sorry for the long wait everyone! But here I am, back and safe from my holiday! I'm not sure about other countries, but here in the UK, we have End of Year Exams, which is basically a whole week of tests before or after the half-term holiday of the summer term. Mine's coming up soon and I'm kind of stressing about it because I've just been daydreaming about Cammie and Zach in all my lessons for the past year, meaning that I need to do loads of revision. So I'll only be able to update every five days or so. Sorry! Love, J xxx.**

**Morgan's POV**

Dillon and I were chatting about football or something like that, but I could feel everybody else staring at me and whispering about me behind my back. No doubt they were wondering where I went yesterday. Dillon had the decency not to ask, but I could tell that under his cool, indifferent air, he was curious. I didn't mind though. It wasn't like I had done anything wrong. I just left school to clear out my head.

Finally, the attention was turned away from me when an unknown woman walked through the door and declared, "My name is Ms Cameron and I'm your substitute teacher until Mr Elliot's flu is gone."

She was reasonably tall with these awesome green-grey eyes and dark hair past her shoulders, pulled into a high ponytail which swung as she walked. Her eyes scanned over the class, before settling on me. I couldn't help but feel that she could see right through me. She was really pretty for an older woman. Well that was the thing: I couldn't figure out what age she was. She looked around thirty five, but the wise twinkle in her eyes told a different story. Through them, I guessed she was at least forty-five, old enough to be my mom's aunt or something. Luckily, we the boys in the class were too young and immature to be drooling at her. That would just be gross.

**Abby's POV**

Staring at the mystery girl, I noticed three things about her. A) Her eyes were calculating, like she was drinking in every detail about me. It definitely wasn't normal for a young girl such as her. B) She was staring at me defiantly, like she didn't care for rules. The way that everyone in the room kept pointing at her and whispering, I could tell that she was the subject of gossip right now, and she expected me to accuse her of something. But she wasn't going to let anything people said get to her. I like that in a person. And C) She had clear green eyes, scarily like Zach's… It was probably a trick of the light. It was rather dark in here. It was probably a blue-green or green with flecks of hazel or something like that.

But what shocked me most of all was how similar she looked to Cammie when Cammie had been age ten. The girl knew more than most, but she still had that bubble of innocence surrounding her. She was also really good at staying invisible. I almost hadn't noticed her when I walked in. She had obviously inherited that from her mom and grandfather. And the hair was the same shade as her mom. It was amazing.

Today would be interesting, at least.

"What's your name?" I asked the girl.

"I'm Suzie Smith," she replied.

It was a nice, easy name, one that could disappear and nobody would notice. Pretending not to act interested, I said, "It's nice to meet you, Suzie. When's your birthday?"

"Why are you asking?" she asked suspiciously. "Haven't you ever heard of something called 'privacy'?"

I laughed heartily. "My dear, I'm only asking because you're new around here. You're all the gossip, you see."

"What about you?" someone else spoke up, and when I turned around to face whoever it was, I saw a boy looking directly at me in the eyes. He seemed quite protective about 'Suzie' in a brotherly way. "I haven't seen you around here either, Ms Cameron."

"That's because I worked as a gardener for the snotty Gallagher kids for thirty years," I crinkled my nose in disgust at the mention of Gallagher. "Back in the day, they were nice enough." The whole class glared at me like they couldn't believe what I was saying. "That's why I got a job there. They gave me a nice cottage to live in at the edge of the school and I could eat their posh food. For the first few years, I was fine with it, but it all went downhill from there. The kids got worse every year, so a couple of days ago, I just packed up and came back to Roseville. I decided it was just a waste of my time – especially now that Macey McHenry is there right now. She and her friends were the worst of them all."

There were a few shocked gasps from the girls. One of them gasped, distraught, "Macey McHenry was mean at school? But how could she be mean? She owns the best clothes shop _ever_! Mommy bought me some clothes from there yesterday!"

I felt slightly guilty that I was robbing Macey of her Roseville customers. By tomorrow, the whole area would know about how Macey McHenry was really horrible to the Roseville people when she was at school. They'd stop buying her clothes and she'll probably end up closing the store if it weren't for the Gallagher girls in the area. But I was sure she wouldn't mind. It was for a good cause after all. Having Cammie back would be worth it, right?

**Morgan's POV**

After school, I decided just to go home. Mom would blow up at me if she found out I was skirting my grounding and I wasn't too worried about getting bored. I had eight books on hacking to read and keep me busy. That's why I walked straight towards Mom's car.

Mom looked up from the newspaper she was reading and smiled, "How was school today?"

"It was fine for me, but everyone else had to work really hard," I explained. "We had a cover teacher, because Mr Elliot has the flu. She was a gardener at Gallagher, you know. But she got annoyed with all the snobby kids there and then Macey McHenry arrived for the donation thing she's giving. The teacher said that Macey and her friends were the worst girls of them all."

"What?" Mom frowned instantly and folded up the newspaper. "Macey McHenry wasn't a bad kid, not to anyone in the school. She was actually really nice. Anyway–"

"You knew –"I shrieked, before quieting down to attract less attention from the rest of the town. Roseville was one of those places that if you stepped on a bug by mistake, everyone else will find out within the next day and next thing you know, you're a murderer. It was bad enough we were in danger of people discovering that Mom was a Gallagher student. Dillon and his parents already knew. I began the sentence again in a whisper, "You knew Macey McHenry?!"

"Yes, she was one of my three best friends." Mom didn't even look upset. That was odd. When she talked about her best friends before, she was almost in tears. She continued, "But what I was going to say before I was interrupted was that Gallagher didn't really have many gardeners. And all the gardeners there were in on the secret already and had retired from their old jobs."

"What secrets?" I demanded, but Mom just ignored what I was saying.

"What did the 'gardener' look like?"

"Take a look and see," I answered, pointing at Ms Cameron, who was climbing onto a motorbike, one of the few in Roseville. "There she is."

Mom glanced over at my substitute teacher. "No. No, no, no, no, this is _not _happening. I should've known," she cursed herself. "They wouldn't just let yesterday morning pass."

At that moment, Ms Cameron glanced at our car and her eyes widened when she saw Mom. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mom was already speeding off. The motorcycle was following us as we drove, so Mom took a detour around the whole town to shake Ms Cameron off. It was so fast that often the car skidded on two wheels and there were times when I feared for my life.

"Let me guess," I shouted over the rushing wind whooshing past our ears. I was gripping onto the seat so hard that my knuckles were turning white. "This is another CIA operative trying to put you in jail."

"She's CIA, yes," Mom agreed, jerking the wheel suddenly so that we avoided crashing into another car. The driver of that car swerved, crashing into Ms Cameron's motorcycle, and he swore at us at the top of his voice. It looked like we were going to be sued, but my mother didn't seem to care as she continued to say, "She is CIA, but she doesn't want to put me in prison. None of them do."

"Why don't they? I thought that was the reason we were chased across the globe," I exclaimed.

"No, they chased us to Australia because they want me to return 'home'. They still think I need saving. They haven't realised that I've built a new life for myself."

"Hardly," I snorted. "Your 'new life' consists of you shooting people for a living, Mom. That's nothing to want to cling to."

"Yeah, but it's what I've got and I can't let go of it without having the whole organisation after me, so I might as well enjoy it," she reasoned, flashing me a weak smile. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with what I do. I'm not guilty for what I do."

I gaped at her in shock. "But Mom, you cut your wrists to escape from the guilt! What's with the sudden change in mind?"

She frowned deeply, as though tremendously dissatisfied with what I said. "What I did was inexcusable. I shouldn't have done it, because there's no reason for me to be ashamed of what I've done. I did what I had to do and I should just accept that."

I blinked, still trying to wrap my head around what she said. Eventually, I decided to smile and simply said, "Whatever you say, Mom." But I knew something was indefinitely wrong.

Mom didn't say anything more but she glanced at me disapprovingly, leading me to guess that she saw through my casual tone. She turned her attention back to the road and we fell into an uncomfortable silence. Recognising the street, I relaxed slightly, knowing that we were nearly home and that I could soon escape the awkward silence. But we didn't turn into the driveway as I expected. Instead, we sped towards the woods at the edge of the town.

"Where are we going?"

"We're just switching cars." Mom didn't even turn around to look at me. She merely continued to look ahead. We pulled up and got out, as I scanned the area for the car. I couldn't find it and immediately asked where it was.

Mom's only reply was a tight laugh, the false type she gave when we met our neighbours in New York. It had been like she didn't know how to laugh. Of course, the neighbours hadn't noticed; they didn't know my mom like I did, and even I didn't know her well at all. But I spotted it easily, as though I had been trained all my life. It was kind of like I had. When I was little, Mom used to play 'games' with me, but thinking back on it, the games seemed more like lessons than fun games. I always wanted to be a spy and get training, but I guess all I had to do was remember those days when Mom came home.

She silently walked into the black shadows of the thick forest, leaving me to stand there alone. I heard a car door clicking open and then slamming closed. Two headlights flooded into the darkness as an engine ignited. Finally, I saw it: a dark blue Honda Jazz Hybrid covered in leaves.

"Get in the car," Mom ordered, and I did so; again, wondering why she was acting so snappy recently.

When we arrived home, I ran up the stairs to my room and opened up my laptop. Hacking, although it was strange, was becoming a kind of hobby of mine. It was dangerous, illegal and would definitely get me a sentence at some sort of young offenders' detention centre – if not in prison. I didn't even have any real purpose in hacking; there wasn't anything I was desperate to know… that is, except for the identity of my father. And seeing as Mom wasn't keen on telling me herself, I would find out. They were sure to have something about relationships there.

It had taken all my brain's strength, but I had already penetrated the firewalls of the Air Force in two days. Now I had all the information from that government force and was planning to go onto other two most famous armed forces next: the Army and the Navy. Then I would proceed onto the intelligence agencies, would be much harder: the FBI, the CIA, and most challenging to hack, the NSA – which specialised in encryption.

_Good luck, _I wished myself as I started to tap at the keys.

**Abby's POV**

Ugh, I had lost them! How could I do that? I was supposed to be a hero, a CIA legend, and I had lost my niece in a simple car chase in a quiet town? Talk about pathetic!

"Jonas, do you have any sort of surveillance that picked up a grey Honda Accord Saloon?"

His voice came through my earpiece, "Of course. I followed it into the forest through a satellite feed… The forest is way too thick for me to see anything down there."

"Well, what should we do now?" I asked. "We lost the car and for all we know, they could be driving through the forest to the nearest airport."

"Perhaps," Jonas mused, "but I bet everyone around here knows about the new girl and her mother. You could ask around and then check out their place."

"Good idea," I agreed, walking up to the nearest person, who turned out to be an old man. "Excuse me, sir? Do you know where the new girl and her mom live?"

"Who are you?" he asked – not rudely, exactly, but rather like he was worried I was some stalker come to kidnap Cammie and the little girl.

"I'm a friend of theirs."

"Oh really?" he looked interested. "What's the name of the mother then?"

Here I was in a sticky position. What if I gave the wrong name? What if she changed it? All the same, I did my best to act confident. It worked, seeing as it was my speciality after all. I was an expert at covers – I lived most of my life in them. I stared at him as though _he _was the one who didn't know Cammie's name and laughed, "She's Cammie, of course!"

The man relaxed visibly in front of me. "She lives right over there." He pointed towards a small house at the edge of town, which looked so Cammie-ish. It was perfectly ordinary, easy to blend in.

"Thanks," I smiled at him and walked away, taking a deep breath. I tried to squash my nervous feelings, but my mind refused to let me. The thought of seeing my niece for the first time after eleven years seemed too great for me to ignore. Despite what Cammie's friends and Rachel told me about her, I couldn't believe it. How could poor, innocent Cammie be so heartless as to shoot Liz? Surely she couldn't be so cruel?

Tentatively, I approached the gate to her cream-coloured house. Looking to look through the gaps in the curtains which covered the window (Cammie had been clever enough to buy heavy curtains rather than just leave the windows bare), I figured that there must have been some source of light inside. There was a glow, not bright enough for me to detect exactly what bulb it was, but bright enough for me to know there was something there at least. That's funny. Zach, one of the CIA's most valuable agents, had checked out the house earlier – while Cammie was out picking her daughter up. He had reported that the house seemed empty. It seemed unlikely that he would miss something as big as a light bulb.

I rang the doorbell, just in case, and to my surprise, I heard a voice yelling from inside that she would be down in a second. A hissing of a chain and the click of a bolt being slid open could be heard. The door swung open.

Cammie stood there, examining me in horror. She was wearing large red oven gloves and a _'kiss the cook' _apron over a purple shirt and jeans. She was older than I remembered and had lost the slightly round shape of her face, which was replaced with high cheekbones. But that was a good thing. Now, she looked as beautiful as her mother, perhaps even more so.

Her eyes, I noticed, were her downfall though. They were cold and hard, as though she had built a wall there which I couldn't get through. I couldn't read any of her emotions, though I suspected that even if I got past the barriers, I'd find no feelings anyway. It was terrible, like she was dead. I had never seen her so unreadable and it killed me.

"Abigail… it's… pleasant to meet you again," she nodded formally, before opening the door wider as an invitation to let me in. I was shocked by the icy voice which laced her words. I was almost scared to walk in.

"Cammie… ditto," I ended up saying after a long pause, spreading into a smile which she didn't notice, or else she just chose not to respond to. I began to walk past her, into the hall of her house, but at the very last moment (with a speed that I had never seen anyone possess), Cammie stuck her foot out and I tripped over. I landed painfully on the floor and was about to jump back up again, when Cammie leant down next to me. She took a napotine patch from her pocket and slapped it on my forehead. Instantaneously, my head began swimming and instead of one Cammie, there were three and all of them were spinning dizzyingly.

"That was cheating," I managed to slur, referring to the fact that she tripped me over with her foot. Then I blacked out.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey everyone, here's my update! Read & enjoy!**

**3 weeks later – Morgan's POV**

"Yes, I got in!" I shrieked happily, staring at my computer screen in joy. After three weeks of literally non-stop tapping at my computer, I had successfully hacked into the CIA's files! Now I had _everything _on my laptop – including the most secret files they had to offer. I would have liked to say that I didn't feel like I was the awesomest person ever, because it would hide how egotistical I was, but I did.

I guess it came from my dad, because at times my mom could be really selfless. It seemed as though she only cared for herself in the way that she kept running away from people and how she didn't really care that she was killing people, but she did care for other people too, more than she did for herself, I suspected. The way it sounded, she prevented herself from committing suicide because of me… She insisted that it was also because of my dad, whoever he was, but I knew that even though she wanted revenge, she wouldn't have actually followed through with the plan of running of if it weren't for me.

"Morgan, is everything okay up there?" Mom called up the stairs. "What did you get into?"

"Oh, just Dillon's circle of friends," I shouted back, hoping she wouldn't see through the lie. "They didn't really like me much, but Dillon convinced them I should be part of the group too. I just got the email!"

"That's great for you, honey!" she yelled, though I could tell that she was wondering how I could be so excited about it. To her, getting into a group of friends wasn't that exciting, and I could see why she thought that, since she killed people for breakfast and all. It didn't really matter to me whether or not she thought it was cool though. What mattered was that she didn't question my excuse. She didn't know that in a minute, I'd know every secret about her childhood.

I searched up 'Cammie Morgan' and her file rose to the surface. My heartbeat at an impossibly fast rate, I clicked onto the button.

_Access denied._

What? I was supposed to have access to everything! I clicked it again.

_Access denied._

No, this was impossible! I had struggled for three weeks – I had ditched Dillon every day after school to have _access denied _pop up on my screen? This was so unfair! How was this even possible? I balled my hand into a fist and smashed it at my table. Ow, that hurt me more than it hurt the table.

Scrolling down the page, I looked at the other files which mentioned Cammie. There were profile pictures besides the names and I noticed the faces of people I recognised. With I shock, I found a link to the file of the woman we had trapped downstairs. I clicked on it and discovered her name: Abigail Cameron. She was in her early fifties and had an amazing record. She had done a load of missions, some of which were would have destroyed the world, let alone the country, if she hadn't been there. I was filled with awe and now I had even more respect for my mother. To keep an agent like Abigail locked up in an ordinary basement had to be really hard. Then, with a shock, I saw who Abby's niece was. Mom was keeping my great-aunt as hostage? Even that was a bit much…

I found Cammie's mother next. Rachel Morgan, she was called, née Rachel Cameron. I guess that's where Mom got my name – her own mom named Mom after her maiden name and Mom was just carrying on the tradition. Rachel Morgan was the headmistress at Gallagher Academy, which I now knew was a school for spies.

Her late husband, Matthew Morgan, was my grandfather. He and Mom (they called her Cameron here) had been really close apparently and they regularly went to the circus and other theme parks. I tried to imagine what Mom was like as a little girl, chucking water balloons at targets to get big toys… and failed. He went MIA when Mom was twelve and was confirmed KIA when Mom was in senior year, having been dragged to his grave as an attempt to break her… by the Circle of Cavan. I thought she liked the Circle! Had she once really been an enemy of the Circle?

Next was Joe Solomon, friend of Matthew Morgan. He was Mom's godfather and former CoveOps teacher (whatever CoveOps was). He had attended Blackthorne Institute, another spy school, and was seemed to treat 'Zachary Goode' as his own son.

I clicked on Zach Goode and realised he was the son of Catherine Goode. He had a relationship with my mom for a year or two and hadn't dated since. It was a coincidence… rather too much of one. My grandmother was Catherine Goode, and yet he had a relationship with my mother at around the right time for me to be born… Then again, Grandma could in fact not be my real one. She and Mom could have just lied to me because they wanted me to have a secure grandmother, not some unknown one on the other side of the world. It wouldn't be the first time they lied to me about something.

Rebecca 'Bex' Baxter-Newman was one of Cammie's best friends from Gallagher Academy. She was the only British, non-American girl to attend Gallagher ever which was why her codename was Duchess, and was the most talented in her area of expertise: fighting. Everyone she had ever come across had been beaten.

_They need to update this, _I thought proudly, _because my mom took her down._

Macey McHenry was another of Cammie's best friends. She owned the fashion industry, yes, but she was also a trained spy for the CIA. She was an expert of disguise and she was the one who had attacked me in Sydney. Her codename was Peacock and was also daughter of Senator McHenry, who ran for Vice President twelve years. She was engaged to a man called Nick.

The last of Cammie's best friends was Liz, the CIA's best in the computing and technical side of things. She was the woman who Mom shot, the mother of the girl at school called Arianne. I couldn't believe it. Mom shot her very best friend? That was an all-time low.

Recalling the day I had snuck into Gallagher Academy, I knew what I had to do. I vaguely remembered dropping one of the books… it must have been the last one in the series. Grimly, I pressed my lips together. I'd have to go there again if I wanted to get into Mom's file and find out the rest of the story.

"Mom," I yelled as I leapt down the stairs, "I'm going to Dillon's house!"

She appeared in the kitchen doorway with a messy apron on. "Alright, but don't expect me to pick you up. It's awkward enough with his parents, kiddo." At the nickname _'kiddo', _she paused with a shocked… yet longing expression, as though she had been slapped. Then she snapped out of it and went back into the kitchen, muttering softly, "I'm turning into my mother. I mean, who calls their kid 'kiddo' anyway?"

Even though I was intrigued by Mom mentioning anything about her mother at all, I knew that I'd found out more about her if I got that hacking book. So I ran from the house and started towards the woods. I was in such a hurry that at one point I was almost ran into Mrs Johns' car, but I refrained myself at the last second. The terrified look on her kind wrinkled face nearly made me stop to apologise, but the adrenaline coursing through me forced me to keep on going towards my goal.

**Dillon's POV**

Mom and Dad had been fighting, yet again. The argument had been about something stupid, like Mom being annoyed that Dad didn't do his share of the washing up, yet again. Apparently Morgan's mom was the one who told Dad that Mom liked him. They both owed their marriage to her. If Morgan's mom didn't tell him that, Dad would never have noticed and Mom would still be too chicken to tell him she liked him. They had fallen in love gradually, they had told me. There were times when I looked back at that story and thought that it had to be true, especially when we went out to Mom and Dad's favourite restaurant. It was like Emma and I didn't exist, the way Mom and Dad looked each other in the eyes.

It didn't seem like that right now. This time, the shouting could be heard even when I was in my room on the third floor of the house, with my door closed and with music blasting through my headphones and into my ears. That's why I got sick of it and went downstairs. I screamed at them to shut up for about five minutes, before taking my bike out for a ride to cool my head off. Naturally, I went to my secret hideout.

Right now, I wasn't really doing anything. I just sat on the floor, staring at the ceiling and thinking over my life. My life had to be the most boring one ever. Apart from my mom and dad fighting, I pretty much had nothing to do. There were no secrets in our town, nothing that was exciting at all. The biggest secret was probably my secret hideout, and that wasn't even that interesting, if you think about it. Sure the 'secret' part was quite cool. But essentially, it was just a hole in the ground.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of pounding footsteps approaching. There was also heavy breathing, like they had been running for a while. Who could possibly in my tunnel? The key word in that sentence was 'my'.

"Who's there?" I demanded, sounding fiercer than I felt.

"Just me," a voice replied and I knew who it was before I saw her. As I had predicted, it was Suzie. I took back what I thought earlier, about how the biggest secret was my hideout. I had almost forgotten that it wasn't really a secret now that Suzie knew about it. Suzie was probably the biggest secret. She had been out there, in the world.

"What are you doing here, Suzie?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She smiled tightly, like she wasn't telling me something. She mumbled, "I just… wanted somewhere quiet…"

"You're lying," I crossed my arms over my chest. "You were pretty good, but I could see right through it. You should practise lying better."

"Fine," she sighed. "I suppose this is your tunnel anyway. There are more secrets to this place than you think." She approached a part of the crumbly wall and pushed. It swung open like a door and my eyes widened in surprise. Behind the door was another tunnel.

"Where does it lead?" I asked with excitement.

She grinned. "You know how you always wanted to be the first Roseville kid to break into Gallagher? Well, here's the way in."

"This leads to Gallagher?" I said, shocked. After she nodded vigorously, I grinned too. "That's so cool! Lead the way!"

"Wait, I just want to warn you about something," she said seriously. "They've got awesome security. I was barely there for one minute and then the alarm went off. So we're only there to get a book and then we're coming right out, okay?"

"Aw, are you serious?" I rolled my eyes. "This is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me in… forever! And you want to kill the fun?"

"I'm serious," she insisted. "We can't stay in there. I don't want to be caught… I don't think Gallagher is the school everyone thinks it is."

"Man, you're turning into your mom," I laughed. "She was saying how Gallagher girls aren't what people think too."

"Just do it," she snapped. "Promise me that we're in and out in a few seconds."

"Fine, we'll just get the book and go."

Finally, she cracked into a smile and giggled, "Then let's go break into a boarding school!"

**5 minutes later**

"Are we there yet?" I asked, fully knowing that I was being annoying. You couldn't blame me though. I was bored of walking in a narrow tunnel and let's face it, I was scared too.

"No," she replied, like a good mother, although I knew her patience was wearing thin.

Ten seconds of silence later, I asked, "Are we there yet?"

"No!" she snapped. "Just stop asking questions, okay?!"

"Fine, I'll be quiet," I promised as I held both hands up in surrender.

"Good," she said, her furious face illuminated with the glow of her torch. Finally, she stopped and I felt déjà vu here as I crashed into her. The exact same thing had happened when I had shown her the hideout… except it was the other way around now. Smiling, she opened the door and we stepped to find ourselves in a library… with six adults gaping at us.

**Morgan's POV**

"It's you. You're Cammie's daughter," Goode stared at me in horror. He was one of the six adults standing in front of us. I recognised them from that street in New York; they were the ones who Mom was running away from. Now I knew their names and pretty much everything else they had ever done too.

"Leave my mother alone! She's sick of running away from you people!" I shouted bravely, though inside, my heart was hammering inside my chest. It was not a good sign to crawl through a passageway for six minutes, only to find yourself confronted by six trained agents of the CIA. "Don't you get that she doesn't want any of you?!"

This shocked them… at least I think it did. I only saw flashes of emotion on their faces before they wiped them clean off the slate. They were almost as good as Mom at covering up their feelings, which was amazing. Baxter was the first to do anything after that. She hauled me onto her shoulder with only one arm like I was as light as a feather. Her only reaction to my weight was a slight grunt. Newman followed the actions of his newly wedded (now I knew that it was his and Baxter's wedding that Mom skipped a couple of days off work to attend). He picked up Dillon, who writhed and struggled against Newman's grip, but to no avail.

"We should have known the girl came through the tunnel," Baxter looked at McHenry. "We went there so many times with Cammie and Liz before. I can't believe we forgot about it."

"Yeah," McHenry agreed, "and I suppose Cammie had been the one who told the girl about it. She was probably running errands for her mother inside the mansion."

"Whatever she was doing, we'll find out sooner or later in the interrogation room. I'll take her there right now with Zach," Baxter said, before turning to the rest of them and ordering, "Grant, give the boy some memory erasing tea and then take him back to Roseville… I'm assuming he lives in the same place as Josh did – 601 North Bellis Street. Jonas, take some of the girl's DNA and find out more about her. Macey, lucky you – today your CoveOps class can experience a real interrogation. And Nick, report everything to Rachel."

"Is that my grandmother?" I asked, the words flying out of my mouth before I could stop them. It was stupid to say anything at all, because now all the attention was drawn to me.

Goode's gaze swivelled round to me, sharp and (I could detect) full of raw pain. I wondered what the source of his agony was, as he said, "Probably, but I'm surprised you had to ask. I thought your mother would have at least told you who her mother was."

I shook my head bitterly. "I had to search it up myself. She wouldn't let me know anything of her past… except that she went to Gallagher Academy, an elite boarding school, and she ran away from her spy life because she caught her boyfriend cheating on her."

Goode jerked suddenly for some reason and the rest shared knowing glances, while Macey confronted me more. "So you don't know who your dad is?"

I stuck to the truth. "No, I don't know his name. I know that he's got the same texture of hair as I do, if that helps."

"It doesn't," Baxter snapped and dragged me out of the room. Goode and McHenry followed close behind her and the rest dutifully carried out their assigned tasks. The corridors were furnished beautifully in a stately, magnificent way. Anywhere else, the style would have looked out of place, but here, it was pulled off perfectly. I admired the detailed drapery and at one point, there was even a glistening sword… _Snap out of it, Morgan! They're kidnapping you, not taking you on a holiday!_

We descended a couple of floors in a lift, which only opened after Goode pressed his fingerprint onto a hidden scanner. After that, we passed a group of girls waiting outside a classroom, who suddenly started whispering when they saw me screaming and kicking Baxter. McHenry clapped her hands twice for attention and ordered them to follow us into the gallery of the interrogation room. They squealed excitedly, but seemed puzzled as to why Baxter would have to interview a girl who was six years younger than themselves and, more importantly, who was wearing the Roseville school uniform.

The interrogation room was relatively small and bare, rather like Mom's makeshift one in the basement of the house. There was a large window, where a gallery looked down onto me – now full of excited girls. McHenry was also up there, bossing them about and probably telling them to be quiet. It was like they were watching a film and we were the actors in it.

"Let's start," Baxter declared, indicating for Goode to sit in the interrogator's seat. He did. "Zach's the best at detecting lies and keeping a straight face, so he'll be interrogating you."

I spat on the floor to show I couldn't care less, but took my own seat on the other side of the table. "Why are you being so cold? I thought you were supposed to be the good guys! The good guys don't kidnap kids and interrogate them!"

"At least we don't kill them," Baxter snapped back moodily.

"Hey!" I stood up, bristling with anger. "You can't blame me for what my mother chooses to do every day! Do you think I want to become a killer too? Do you think I've got any choice?"

"So you're confirming it then. Cammie's an assassin?" Goode asked quietly, putting an arm on mine to soothe my outburst. It worked, but not because he was super calming or anything. Just from looking at his face, I could see he looked stricken by what he had found out and I sympathised slightly. I sat down to seem less violent, but inside, I was still feeling incredibly defensive of my mom.

"Yes, Cammie Morgan is an assassin. I thought you would have figured that out by now." I pressed my lips together when I noticed the girls in the gallery gasping. Why would they care about my mother? "But you can't fully blame her for what's she's become."

"Why can't I?" Baxter demanded rudely. "She was the one who left us, not the other way round. Your mother isn't innocent as you think, little girl."

I ignored her new nickname for me. "I know she isn't innocent. I was the one who watched her shoot a girl my own age, not you people. But you were the reason she became like that. She got cheated on and you weren't even there for her. She was going through so much pain and you simply abandoned her to rot in this stinking mansion."

Goode put his head in his hands and started shaking violently like he was crying. I looked up at the girls in the gallery again, uncertain of what I should do with my interrogator breaking down next to me. They looked shocked that a guy like Goode, so professional and deadly usually, was acting like this in front of them. McHenry was also up there, tears streaming down her face. Even Baxter looked like she was struggling to take hold of her emotions.

Finally, she said shakily, "Zach, move over. I'll take over from here."

He nodded gratefully and dashed towards the door, which slammed loudly after him. Baxter sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a second.

"What's going to happen after you've finished interrogating me?" I asked suddenly, interrupting the silent moment. I was fed up with all of Mom's ex –friends. If they were so upset about it all, if they were such devoted friends, why weren't they there when my mother was crying in her old Gallagher Academy bedroom, trying to get over her second boyfriend – the only one if you don't count Dillon's dad, who wasn't that serious with her?

Baxter looked surprised, as though she had only just remembered I was there. "I suppose… we'll give you a room to stay in… with a guard outside, of course."

"What?" I shrieked, standing up so suddenly that my chair clattered to the floor with a deafening crash. "You're just going to keep me here, as your hostage?"

"Your mother is keeping one of our best agents hostage, little missy," she barked. "If she's keeping her aunt, we should only return the favour by keeping her daughter. It's the only way she'll come back to her family."

"Fine, do whatever you want with me," I snapped in retaliation, "but just remember, she is _not_ your family anymore."


	17. Chapter 17

**Jonas' POV**

The DNA check was 88.7% done, when Bex burst into the room, demanding, "Jonas, send an email to Cammie, telling her that we have her daughter and we're holding her as hostage. Tell her that if she wants her daughter back, she has to come to us with Abby."

"Alright, I'm on it," I said immediately, although I was slight unnerved by the fact that we were keeping a little girl, the same age as my own Arianne.

"Good," she replied, and rushed out of the door, muttering something about stupid lessons.

Turning back to the computer, I typed a message to Cammie and hit the _'Send' _button. It was barely a minute when I received the reply. Excited, I opened up the email and read:

**Jonas, your computer will self-destruct 10 seconds after the name of my daughter's father pops up on the screen. Do not tell anyone else the identity – the only reason I'm letting you see the name in the first place is because I owe you one for what I did to Liz. Tell everyone that your computer destructed when you tried to open up the DNA tests.**

**I know you're probably wondering why you should do as I ask, especially as I might have killed Liz… It's because as the mother, I have the right to say who the father is. If I want to keep it secret, I should be able to because it's my personal business, not anyone else's. Besides, you probably wouldn't want to tell the father anyway.**

**Don't tell anyone, and I promise that by nightfall, I'll be at Gallagher, with Abby.**

**Forever grateful… Cammie.**

After reading it, I blinked a few times, to clear out my head. Should I tell my friends, or should I leave it to Cammie? She was right, of course – I was nosing into someone else's business by looking into it. But I couldn't betray my friends for a murderer either.

_Look at the name first, _a voice at the back of my head whispered, _before the name disappears._

I obeyed it. Sucking in a deep breath, I watched with wide eyes as the DNA test went from 99% to 100%, from _loading _to _loaded. _Most computers wouldn't be able to find the DNA of just _anyone. _You'd need a sample from both the father and the girl, but due to my government clearance, I had the DNA of every American citizen – heck, I could have the DNA samples of everyone in the world if I wanted to hack into other countries too.

It was Zach.

Cammie had been right in her email. I didn't want to tell the father who he was. It would just make him even more big headed and selfish than he is already. But how had she known we had a fight?

**Cammie's POV**

"Hello?" I said hesitantly into the phone. "This is Cammie calling; Catherine, are you there?"

"Yes it is," she replied, sounding strangely… cold. It was like we were at Square 1 again, back when she was the evil woman after me and I was the Gallagher girl running away from her. She'd been sounding like this lately, choosing to ignore any affectionate comment I'd make (or as affectionate as a person like me could do). "Ms Morgan, is there any specific reason you are calling?"

"I wanted to ask if Dr Steve could come early today. You gave me a mission to spy on Gallagher and I'm planning to infiltrate it in the evening, while the students and teachers are eating their dinner in the hall." I left out the part about Morgan being held hostage there.

Catherine let out a sigh of relief, though I hadn't an inkling why she was so felt that way. "I thought you were going to ask if you could cancel the therapy which, of course, is absolutely unacceptable. Yes, I am sure I could arrange for that to happen. Remember to report back to base anything that you discover at Gallagher Academy. I haven't heard much from you or about the school lately and" –

She stopped abruptly, leaving me with the feeling that she had been about to say _I miss news of my old school. _What was wrong? Usually, she'd be completely open with me. Nothing was censored out of our conversations. I think (excluding this crazy holiday stunt) the conversations we had were the only times in the past ten years that I felt anywhere near like a person with emotions. I had half a mind to ask her why she was acting so weirdly.

Instead, I just exchanged a goodbye and hung up.

**Abby's POV**

The swung open; I instantly hoped it was the little girl and not Cammie. Yes, I felt guilty that I now only felt hatred for my niece – and perhaps a small lingering sympathy for her. I should have been able to forgive her, but the prospect of being locked up was clouding my thoughts.

Sadly, it was Cammie who entered, with an array of guns slotted into a belt of hers. She looked slightly dazed, again proving that she went through the same process of something every day. In her morning visits, she'd be kind; in the afternoon, confused; and in the evening, heartless. Something was going on with her, I was sure. Today, the bewilderment came earlier than usual, which was instantly alerting me that something was different.

"Come with me," she ordered, blinking a couple of times. "We need to go."

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, not moving from the lone wooden chair I had been given, but as usual, my question was ignored. She grabbed my left arm and dragged me towards the door, almost jerking my arm out of its socket in the process.

The house's windows were flooded with sunlight and after being so accustomed to the darkness, my eyes burned. She didn't regard the fact that I was bare footed when she led me out of the house and towards the woods at the edge of Roseville. It was sweet, the scent of outdoors and grass and the song of a bird's chirping; but I wasn't free yet.

"Where are we going?" I repeated.

She didn't look back at me as she snapped, "Stop asking so many questions."

"Have you ever heard of something called respecting your elders?" I phrased it as a question, just to annoy her.

"If I told you, will you shut up?" she fumed. At a nod of my head, she continued, "We're going to Gallagher, okay? I'm returning you back to where you belong."

"I'm not an object."

"I don't care what you are." She refused to let any conversation continue, and I was struck at how every moment we spent together, she became less angry and more indifferent. By the end of our hike, she looked like she was born without emotions.

"If you make any sound at all, do not doubt that I will shoot you," she looked at me like I was nothing to her, like we had never been family. "And if that won't stop you, I will proceed to shoot every other teacher in the school with no exceptions."

I didn't doubt her. With that cruel look in her eyes, she could torture every child in the world individually and come out of it with a thin smile on her lips. She was merciless. I wasn't ashamed to admit that I was terrified of her, the monster that my little niece had become.

"Move," she shoved at my back with her gun. I did. I climbed over the Gallagher's high wall, though it took a litle too much effort out of my aging bones.

She followed, keeping her gun between her teeth. Once, long ago, I would have scolded her and said that guns were only no use, that using a gun would mean it was too late for it to do any good anyway. Now I wasn't so sure. She had certainly made a use for them now.

"This way," she said crisply, after she landed on the ground with catlike grace. She brought out a Plumett AL-52 and shot at the a ledge on the side of the mansion. We both knew it was just over one of the dining hall windows. A grappling hook flew out of the Plumett AL-52 and attatched itself directly where Cammie had aimed. She was an amazing shot, though I knew that wasn't a good thing.

"You go first," she prodded me with the gun. Obidiently, I began climbing the rope, although I knew my muscles would be screaming by the time I was only half way.

As I soon found out, they were. When I was almost at the top, the agony was too much to bear. My legs gave way and then I was sliding down the rope on my hands, which was giving me a friction burn. After a couple of seconds, my hands had let go too and I was freefalling in the air. No sound escaped from my lips for fear that Cammie would take that oppurtunity to shoot me down and – more importantly – the other teachers, Rachel included.

Cammie didn't shoot me. In fact, I was taken completely by surprise when she caught me around the waist. I knew that due to my hieght, I was heavier than her, so some of the original hopes and admiration of Cammie came back. It must have been such a strain for her muscles to be climbing up with one fewer hand and more than double the weight. Her teeth were tightly clenched together and she wore such a determined expression that I knew, for a moment, the old Cammie was back.

We were finally there, I realised, when Cammie stopped climbing.

With a pained battle cry, she used my weight as momentum and crashed us through the window.

**Cammie's POV**

The glass shattered as we fell through – I had known this window was one of the few non-bulletproof ones left. From outside, it was covered in ivy (and therefore concealed) and from inside, it was hidden in the shadows. I was one of the rare people who knew about it and my mother was one of the many who didn't, which was probably why she didn't replace it with something stronger.

Abby's weight meant that the floor was rushing up to meet us much quicker than I had calculated, but I still managed to land in a crouch, thanks to the vigorous training programme I had. I had slung Abby onto my back so she hadn't been harmed either.

The girls all stood up and I had a feeling in a moment there would be chaos as they shoved each other in their desperate attempt to get out of the hall. I was proved to be wrong by my mother. She roared for attention with an authority I always she had and with a ferocity I had never come across before.

As one, everyone sat down, seeming too scared to be the last one standing.

"Is that… is that really you, Cammie?" Mom's voice had quietened to normal level, though it could be heard easily in the deathly quiet of the room.

"It is," I replied emotionlessly. I didn't make any move towards her; she tried to look indifferent, but I saw the hurt in her eyes. It didn't affect me.

"And Abby, thank God you're alive!" she diverted her attention from me, knowing that she wouldn't be having a conversation with the girl she raised anymore. Here, she rushed forward.

"Don't move," I ordered. When she ignored me, I retrieved one of my faithful guns and aimed it at my aunt's head. There was a collective gasp from around, though I pretended not to notice them. "Where is my daughter? I want her back. That was the deal, right? You give me her and I give you Abby."

"Cammie…" Mom said boldly. "I don't believe that you'd shoot your own aunt."

A voice rang out from the teachers' table, where my ex-best friends had stood up again. It was Bex. "I'll bet that's what Liz was thinking when Cammie aimed a gun at her, but that didn't stop her from shooting."

I tried not to let my facial expression waver at Liz's name. Instead, I pulled out another gun from my belt and aimed it Bex. "I've shot one of my ex-best friends. I'm not afraid to make that two."

"You're daughter is in Sublevel Two, where the interrogation rooms are," Macey announced.

"She's not," I shook my head, glaring at her. "Don't try to lie to me, Macey. I know she's not in there. Perhaps she was earlier today, but not anymore."

"Why do you think that?" Macey narrowed her eyes.

"I checked each of the Sublevels."

"Impossible," a girl near me breathed.

"Watch it," I snapped, using my other arm to take another gun and aim it at her. She shrieked in terror. "Now get me my daughter. Bring her back here. And don't try anything funny with me."

Bex and Macey rushed from the room, looking terrified for the poor girl and Abby. At the edge of my peripheral vision, there was someone approaching me. I spun around and aimed both guns at the person, only to find it was Zach. Abby took the oppurtunity to scoot out of my way, although from out journey here, she already knew I could still easily shoot her, even from afar.

"Zachary Goode, get out of the way!" I yelled at him. "If you think I'll spare you, you're wrong! I've been waiting for this moment for years and if you valued your life, you'd go while I'm still offering!"

"But I don't care if you end my life or not," he replied and took a step forward, touching something in my heart. "It doesn't matter to me anymore."

"Zach, I'm perfectly serious," I blazed furiously, but my hand was shaking. "Stop trying to be a hero. The Cammie you knew is buried. She died when you… you – she's just dead. Stop trying to bring her back, because she's not there anymore. Jonas understands me."

"_Jonas _understands you?!" he spluttered. "You're the one who shot his wife! Why would he understand you?"

"I think you already know that from your fights," I replied.

"Jonas has told you about it?" He turned to Jonas. "You're in league with my g–" he broke off abruptly and corrected himself – "Cammie?!"

"No…" Jonas refused to raise his eyes to Zach's, but instead looked at me helplessly. "I'm not… I mean, I haven't been… I don't…"

"Stop picking on him!" I shouted, directing Zach's attention back to me. "Nothing's his fault! I thought I'd let him know because I shot his wife!"

"Let him know what?" Zach ran back towards me, stopping only a body's width away. It was the closest I had been to him since that terrible night.

I hissed so quietly that only we could hear, "Let him know who my daughter's father is."

His eyes grew wide and he stumbled back a few steps blindly. With a crazed look in his eyes, he shouted, "Who is it, then? Who is he?"

Thankfully, I was saved by Bex and Macey, who came in with Morgan. With a relieved cry, I dropped the guns I was holding and ran towards my daughter. Dr Steve's therapy was supposed to make me emotionless, but when it came to the love I felt for my daughter, it could do nothing.

Morgan was as beautiful as ever; they seemed to have treated her well enough. She was dressed in the Gallagher girl school uniform and it struck me like lightning how much she looked like me. One of the differences, thoguh, was that she looked so wide-eyed and confused that my stony heart reached out for her. She ran towards me too and we collided in a tight mother-and-daughter bear hug.

"Mom, I thought you'd never come," she mumbled into my chest. "You're an assassin; you don't have emotions, so I thought you didn't care that I was here."

"I always would have come, M," I replied as softly as she had. "I'm your mother, aren't I?"

I didn't look up, but I could tell that a swarm of guards were fast approaching. Still holding my daughter in a tight embrace, I took one of the two guns left in my belt and shot at a guard's knee. I heard the bullet hit home and the guard collapse to the floor. The others seemed uncertain whether they should continue or not.

"Don't come any closer," I warned, shoving the gun back in its place, before turning back to my daughter and bending down to her height. "Look, Morgan, I'll get you out of here, no matter what. Don't you worry."

She nodded dutifully, but bit her lip like she was going to regret what she said next, "Mom, I really hate these people because of what they did to you… but I've thought about it while I was waiting… and I'd rather you go back to them than go back to murdering people. All that killing isn't only killing them. It's killing you too."

My grip on her arm softened; it was only then that I realised I had been clutching it. "It's not that simple, M. I can't just quit my job. It's part of me now" –

I stopped when I felt two hands on my waist. I spun around, but it was too late. Zach had already taken my two guns and flung them into the air, away from me. Mom caught them and ran from the room, before I could even move one step.

My fury was so concentrated on Zach that I pinned him on the floor in one second and would have proceeded to beat him up if it weren't for the guards fast approaching. They had seen the oppurtunity to take me down, and they were using it.

"Morgan, get away from here!" I yelled at her as I sprung into action.

Flip. Dodge. Punch. Duck. Kick. Chop. Slam.

I was a machine gun, working its way through every guard there was. It wasn't long before they were all on the ground. I had tried not to harm them too much; I had spent most of my childhood growing up around these people and I knew they were just doing their job, like I did mine. As far as I knew, I hadn't killed anyone.

But I knew it wasn't over yet.

Next up were a second fleet of guards. Successfully, I overpowered them all, but by the end of it, my muscles were next to collapsing. When the teachers sprang out of their seats and charged towards me, I knew I wasn't going to win it.

"Take me," I growled, closing my eyes.

"And take me too!" a voice piped up from the back of the hall. I opened my eyes as Morgan stepped out from the shadows.

"Morgan," I told her, aghast, "I told you to go!"

"I can't leave you here." She shook her head stubbornly, and then smirked at me – looking so much like her father that I felt sick. "And you can't make me leave if I don't want to."

For some reason, what I yelled next wasn't what I wanted to… it was instinct.

"Don't smirk like that! You look like your-!" I shrieked hysterically, before I could stop myself. Then I saw Zach rising from the floor into a sitting position, looking triumphant. We both knew what smirking meant to me. My voice lowered to a whisper as I said the last word of the sentence: "father."

His grin was so radiant that for a second my heart melted, before I reminded myself how, once, he had crushed all my hopes and dreams. I crumpled to the floor, my head in my hands. My whole body was shaking as the first tears I had shed in eleven years streamed down my cheeks. This evening was a disaster. Not only had they managed to capture me, but now Zach knew he was Morgan's father.

"Hey, hey," Zach's voice said in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me. I didn't even push him away; that's how miserable I felt. I opened my eyes and looked into his.

"Why aren't you smirking?" My voice cracked.

His face darkened. "I haven't smirked for eleven years."

Yet again, I hiccupped into tears. I hugged my knees to my chest and I whispered, "I'm not supposed to feel emotions. How are you doing this to me?"

"I don't know, but don't worry about it now," Zach soothed and rose to his knees with me in his arms, bridal style. A wave of exhaustion washed over me and I didn't even object as he carried me away.


	18. Chapter 18

**Oh my God, guys, I'm so sorry! I thought I had posted this chapter but when I came to update Chapter 19, I realised I had only uploaded it onto fanfiction, not posted it! Sorry! J x**

**Catherine's POV**

As soon as I got off the phone with Cammie, I got to work. I knew that she'd be going to Gallagher, back to her home at last. I knew that she would probably make some dramatic entrance and I also knew that her friends and family wouldn't let her go that easily.

They'd capture her and she'd be reluctant to agree to stay with them. But in the end, they'd convince her.

That's what I knew would happen; that's what I wanted to happen. My daughter, as much as I… loved… (I still hated that word) her, belonged with Zach and the rest of her friends. It was hard for me to say goodbye and it may cost me my life, but for once, I was doing the right thing.

My plan would work, but it would need time – time that I didn't have. Cammie, no doubt, knew that the Circle would be there to collect her and she was right. I needed to divert them. And I needed to divert them fast.

Within minutes, I had hatched a plan. I was quick with tactics and strategy; it was how I had got onto the Circle's board. It was also useful how well I knew the Circle's base.

They didn't really respect people's privacy here, but at least they were decent enough to leave the toilet cubicles without cameras. It was into here that I went. Inside, I unpacked a briefcase (people here were so distrustful that it would be odd _not _to take your briefcases into the toilets with you). It was full of various disguises that I had bought over the years. No eyes but mine and Cammie's had seen these.

Quickly, I put them on, so I now looked like one of the junior guards. I had even arranged stubble to go with the curly brown mat of hair I had. Then I climbed through the vent, part of the old vents system – so they didn't have it on camera.

This plan better work, I thought grimly.

**Zach's POV**

Call me creepy, call me a stalker, but there I was, sitting at Cammie's side and watching her sleep. You can't blame me though. She would probably push me away as soon as she woke up and this was the only chance I had to be so close to her. And this was the only time of the day that she looked this innocent and happy.

She was so, so beautiful that it was killing me, slowly and painfully. Her dark blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and it was excruciatingly hard for me to resist the urge to touch it. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, making her look so peaceful in sleep. A faint smile quirked her lips, like she was struggling not to grin.

Subconsciously, she suddenly jerked and her mouth popped open in a silent scream. I felt torn between letting her sleep and suffer whatever devilish dream she was having, or waking her up and have her send me away. Just as I was deciding to do the latter, an arm flew out of the covers as she grabbed my arm. With another sharp tug, she had pulled me into the bed with her. The frantic nightmare seemed to subside within her subconscious. She sighed happily and relaxed. She snuggled closer and her head rested on my chest.

My breath caught and I froze, scared of waking Cammie up. But I was also relishing the moment. Her being so close to me… it felt so right. Eventually, I relaxed too and slid my right arm under her body, so it was now wrapping her closer to me, trapping her between ma arm and me.

She didn't seem to mind.

So I just lay there, breathing as Cammie was and feeling, after eleven years of restless nights, at peace. It wasn't soon after that I slipped into a beautiful dream.

**Cammie's POV**

The sunlight flooding into the bedroom was what woke me up. I felt so comfortable that I decided just to lie here with my eyes closed and my head resting on a chiselled chest… I snuggled closer to it, loving the warmth it was sending through me…

WHAT?!

My eyes flew open and I realised I was lying on Zach – Zachary Goode! I was lying in the same bed as Zachary Goode! I screamed and tried to jerk away, but his arm on my back fastened me to him. Struggling frantically, I tried to roll him off the bed, but to no avail. He was heavier than me and I couldn't get the leverage I wanted when I was lying on a bed.

"What's going on?" Bex burst through the door, looking panicked, but ready for anything. Her eyes rested on me hopelessly in Zach's arms. Instead of helping me out, she just giggled and called Macey over. Macey sauntered in, pretending to look bored, but when she saw my position, she burst out laughing. Soon enough, everyone was here, including Mom and even more embarrassingly, _my daughter. _I was sure that I was red with humiliation.

Zach's eyes fluttered open and he mumbled groggily, "What's happening?"

Just as he said this, I finally managed to roll him off the bed and he crashed to the floor.

"Not exactly the best wake-up call I've ever had," he groaned, pulling himself to his feet. There was a round of laughter.

"That's what you get for trying to sleep with me," I glared. He looked about to protest, but Grant cut in first, wagging his eyebrows:

"Sleep with you or _sleep _with you?"

"Hey, there are innocent ears here," I warned, which Morgan took as a signal to push through the adults and jump into the bed with me.

She embraced me tightly and said, "Oh, this bed is so nice and warm."

"I wonder why," Grant laughed suggestively. "Perhaps it's due to a certain _night activity_."

"What do you mean?" Morgan frowned in puzzlement, but Macey just shook her head and told my daughter she was too young to know things like that. Too right she was. Scared that she'd here anymore of Grant's profanities, I ushered her out of the room and muttered something about little girls needing breakfast.

"So what are you going to do now?" I grumbled, reminding everyone of the fact that despite the laughter of this morning, I was still their prisoner. The smiles and laughter vanished.

Bex said softly, "Cammie, you know that we don't want to keep you as some kind of criminal, don't you?"

"Is that so?" I scanned their faces. "Because – newsflash, people – I am a criminal. I've killed people in the past; right now, I kill people for a living; and no doubt, I'll kill people in the future too."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Zach's face was filled with regret and desperation. I didn't buy it. I'm not falling into his deadly trap again.

"It does," I replied coldly. "I'm a different person now; I can't go back."

Mom objected, "You can. It's simple" –

"It's not!" I shouted, cutting them all off. When I saw the looks of terror on their faces, I lowered my voice, repeating the same thing: "It's not. It's not simple at all. The Circle would be after me in one moment. They've probably noted my absence from the house already. They'll be here to pick me up by sundown."

"So that's who you work for?" Jonas asked quietly. "You've been at the Circle all this time."

I hung my head; I wasn't answering, but the answer was already clear. What had happened to the Killer Chameleon, who held the record for the youngest killer at my status? What happened to all my secrets, my wall of emotions? Now, I had nothing left. Zach and my ex-best friends had taken everything I had. I wasn't the Killer Chameleon anymore. I was just plain, old Cammie once more.

The team of CIA agents had already started firing their questions and I suddenly regretted sending Morgan downstairs. If she was here, she'd be squeezing my hand comfortingly. Feeling exhausted, even though I had just woken up, I said, "One at a time. You're asking too many questions at once."

Zach pounced on me first. "Did you work with my mother?"

"She's my best friend."

"What?!" they all spluttered.

Rubbing my temples, I snapped, "At least she was there for me when I was alone and pregnant. The rest of you were too busy with your own lives to realise the symptoms of pregnancy. She noticed as soon as I arrived at the Circle's base."

They exchanged guilty glances and I sighed, getting ready for more questions. Macey was the next asker and the question was no easy one to answer.

"How many people have you killed?"

I bit my lip. "I… I don't really know… I've lost count… I'm guessing close to five hundred, including bodyguards and policemen…"

"You've killed five hundred people?" Bex exploded. "How could you, Cammie? How do you go on living, knowing that you've killed so many? You're… you're a monster!"

Naturally, I felt the need to return her flare. "Fine, call me that if you want. You're the one with emotions, not me."

"That's not true," Mom wrapped her arms around me, like she was imagining that I was still the little girl she had raised. "You know that no matter what you've done, we'll always welcome you back. It doesn't matter that the Circle may or may not be coming; we're not going down without a fight. We'd always fight for you back, no matter what. There's no reason to push us away."

"That's the thing, Rachel." I struggled out of her grip, which had weakened for a moment when I had called her Rachel, rather than 'Mom'. "It's not that I'm pushing you away to protect you anymore. I have no emotions."

"Stop trying to delude yourself" –

"I have no emotions." I said it flatly, without colour. That was the way my voice would sound if I didn't purposefully change it to sound normal. I pulled down the shirt they had changed me into the previous night to reveal my shoulder. So small that they escaped sight at a rough glance was a pinprick, the remains of an injection.

"What did they do to you?" Zach's voice broke and he choked back a sob.

"That jab reduces my emotions to just shadows of what they once were," I explained, shrugging. "It lasts my whole life. I'm glad of it, really. Emotions are stupid; they're everyone's weaknesses. I was glad to be one of the few to be cured of it."

"You think they're weaknesses," Zach repeated what I had said; looking at me as though he didn't believe it. "You think emotions are weaknesses… because of what I did to you…?"

"Yes," I turned to him, gazing unflinchingly into his green orbs. What I was saying had once been important to me – I had once lived strictly by these laws – and now I was saying them, not only to push them away, but also to convince me to be as orthodox as I had once been. "You brought me to my senses, Zach. Before you cheated on me" – he flinched – "I thought love was worth losing my life for. So now, I'm thanking you. I'm thanking you for losing my emotions."

"No," he whispered. "I don't believe it. I don't believe you haven't got emotions."

"Don't imagine things, Zach," I smiled, but there was no joy in it. It was just a pull of muscles in my face. "See? Right here, you're being emotional. Can you see how much pain your feelings are causing you?"

"Fine, I agree that my feelings are causing me pain," Zach sighed, running a hand through his hair. I used to think the gesture was cute and even now, I felt an old stirring in my heart. Hurriedly, I pushed it out of my mind, but there was still an unsettling feeling there, hiding in the darkest corners – an emotion that I couldn't quite place. Was it longing…? Or… was it even, dare I say it… love? Zach continued, "But my emotions are causing me pain, because you've got none."

I realised that he was right, so I merely scowled. "Trust me. I seriously don't have emotions anymore. Stop trying to say otherwise. If I had a gun, I could shoot you all and simply walk out of here without the Circle's help."

Now, to everyone's surprise, it was Jonas who spoke. He had been silent throughout the conversation. "If you were so unaffected, why did you get so upset about shooting Liz?"

I pursed my lips. "That was a mistake. It won't happen again."

"Then why didn't you pull the trigger on Zach downstairs?" Jonas challenged.

"Zach is… different." I blinked, while everyone else raised their eyebrows. "What I mean is… I've got a very special, very painful death in store for him."

"Come out of denial," Mom whispered. "Please, Cammie."

"I'm not in denial," I said stubbornly, turning away from them all to face the window. I crossed my arms over my chest.

Mom sighed, but addressed everyone else. "Alright, let's give her some space. Everyone clear out of the room… except for one person to guard her."

"I'll do it," Zach offered instantly.

"No, I think that wouldn't be a great idea… And you need your breakfast, Zach," Macey said. "I'll do it."

And with that, everyone left the room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Catherine's POV**

"You wanted to speak with me?" a voice questioned, interrupting the train of thoughts I was having and causing my eyes to open.

"Yes, I did," I replied coolly, clasping my hands together in a business-like manner.

Joe Solomon's inquisitive eyes gave away how curious he really was about this. He sat down on the opposite side of the table, but braced himself in a position which would make it easy to defend himself if need be.

"I'm not armed, you know," I indicated that I noticed how he had moved. "I know you're in crutches, but you still don't need twelve extra agents here. I don't think the café would be impressed if they knew who you had placed in here."

He shrugged. "You can never be too careful. You do realise that we're going to take you back to the CIA's headquarters."

"I'd rather you didn't. They'll kill both me and Cammie if they realise that I've gone against their rules."

He bit his lip. "Tell me what you wanted to say and I'll think about it."

"Hmm, I don't think so. Anyone could hear us here – the waitress, the customers and obviously all your agents. What I want to say is strictly, _strictly _confidential. I'd rather do it somewhere more private."

"How do I know you're not going to trick me?" he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

I shrugged. "I don't mind having your agents give me a thorough check. Besides, we're only going to the back storage room."

His jaw twitched, like he was almost going to bite his lip with hesitation, but he refrained at the last moment. Then he gave a resolved sigh. "Alright… but it better be worth it."

Five minutes later, we were standing in the cold storage room, one of Solomon's agents placed outside the door to prevent any surprise visits (but with earplugs in case he got nosy himself). If I wasn't so professional, I would have felt uncomfortable at the close proximity of this room. I was far too near Solomon for my liking.

It was me who spoke first, clearing my throat. "You know that I wouldn't ask to meet you in a storage room if I wasn't in need. I'm desperate, Solomon. I need a way to help Cammie. You've got her at Gallagher, but the Circle is going to come after her soon, if we don't do something."

"Why do you want her to stay at Gallagher?" his eyes were flashing with distrust. "Why do you want to help her at all?"

I looked at my hands, feeling genuinely guilty. "I… I tricked her into becoming a killer. She came to us of her own accord because she was desperate, but we kept her prisoner. She begged us to only start the torture after her baby was born and it was then that I realised that I was having a granddaughter. After that… I was changed. I was softer, though I wouldn't admit it to anyone. For that, I owe it to Cammie and Morgan to keep them safe."

Solomon tilted my head up and searched my eyes, which were glistening with tears. His own softened considerably at what he found – the pure emotion that was inside them. For a moment, we had some sort of special connection, through the girl we both loved as our own adopted daughter. "Wow," he breathed, "Cammie really changed you. She has that effect on people, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," I blinked away the tears, jerking my head out of his grip. I gulped the lump that was riding up my throat. "And now Cammie's in danger. We need to create a diversion. You have to make Cammie seem as though she's disappeared somewhere else in the world; make it obvious enough for them to trace, but not enough to look suspicious. Meanwhile, I'll plant a seed in the Circle that leads to the place where she supposedly is."

"That isn't going to stop them from finding her forever," Solomon said gravely. "Eventually, she'll be traced."

"I know that," I closed my eyes briefly. "But it will provide her with enough time to find that she really belongs back with her friends and family. Then she can fight back with them. It's better than having her locked up, living only half a life."

"I suppose so," he mumbled, deep in thought of what was good for Cammie. "I think I'll let you go back to the Circle. Your plan won't work if you aren't there circulating rumours about where Cammie is."

"I'm glad you're choosing to help Cammie – and me – out," I nodded formally, fishing a file out of my handbag and sliding it over the table. "Here's a file telling what you have to do. I've organised everything already – flight tickets, hotel bookings, credit cards, everything."

"Thank you." He took the file and slipped it into his large coat. With the help of his crutches, he limped out of the room. Once we were back in the actual café, he clicked his fingers above his head as some sort of signal. As one, almost every customer in the café brought money out of their pockets and placed it on the table. Then they followed Solomon out, ignoring the somewhat bewildered waitress.

Now the café was almost deserted. With a sigh, I gathered my belongings and left the café too, heading back to the Circle… and for the first time, I was dreading it.

**Cammie's POV**

"So…" Macey raised an eyebrow at me. "What's happening with you and Zach? I want all the juicy details of your night!"

I shot her a disgusted look, before turning to face the window once more. "Zach and I didn't do anything… unless he took advantage of my unconscious body and put my clothes back on after it."

"Oh, come on," she stepped in front of the window to block my view as her lips twitched with amusement. "There is definitely something up with you and him. The sexual tension between you two is at fireworks level."

"Shut up," I warned. "You won't be laughing when you're lying dead on the floor while I bust out of here."

Instead of looking terrified like I had hoped, she just smiled even wider with a glint in her eye. "That's the thing. If you were really that desperate to go, you'd be gone already."

"Not this again," I groaned. "We went over this when everyone else was here."

"No we didn't," she shook her head. "You avoided it and Jonas didn't ask you the right questions. Now you _will _answer my question, whether you like it or not. Why have you not busted out of here already if you're so unafraid of killing people?"

"Morgan's here and I can't leave without her."

"Ah, so you love her?"

"Of course I love her. She's my daughter."

I didn't know how it was humanly possible, but she stretched into an even bigger smile. "I just caught you out, Little Miss No-Emotions! You said you loved her, but before, you said you can't love. You said you didn't have emotions, remember?"

I scowled when I realised that she was right and that there was no loophole for me to squeeze out. "I… I… I hate Macey-logic. It's…"

"Clever and right," she laughed.

"I wasn't joking about the emotion jab they gave me," I said seriously.

"I didn't say that you were."

"I can still run away easily," I reminded her, changing the subject. "If I knew where Morgan was, I'd be gone already…"

"And that really explains why you stayed this morning," she rolled her eyes. "She came to see why her mother was screaming, remember? And you two even hugged. Then _you _were the one who sent her downstairs for breakfast."

Damn her for being annoyingly analytical and clever.

She went on before I could defend myself, attacking me more with her verbal genius. "There's something keeping you back here. Is it the fact that you still have feelings for Zach?" I glared at her, but she didn't back down. "Why are you staring at me like that, Cammie? We both know it's true. You love Zach still."

My unwavering gaze told her otherwise, so she just sighed and said, "Fine, maybe you don't know it. But I do. I know that there's some part of you (whether it's subconscious or not doesn't matter) which still craves him. Your feelings for Morgan may have weakened it, but it was your feelings for Zach that defeated whatever was in that injection for once and for all."

"Macey, I really don't want to talk about Zach," I leaned back on the bed and closed my eyes.

"Fine, but one day I promise you'll realise that I'm right. I'm the queen of romance knowledge. It's not likely that I'll turn out to be wrong."

"Macey, I don't think my so-called feelings for my ex will make me feel again."

"And why's that?"

I slowly opened my eyes once more. "It's not just the injections that I took. I had therapy with Dr Steve too."

She blinked with surprise. "What did you do in those therapy sessions?"

"I have no idea. I just know it doesn't block just any emotion – it only blocks guilt, because that's what's supposed to affect a killer the most…" I confessed. "I always forget what happens in there after I come out so I can't say anymore…" At her suspicious look, I said, "Ask Abby. I'm sure she's noticed how I always look confused after therapy."

"I believe you," she resolved. It was hesitant, but I saw truth in the words. "I trust you, Cammie."

"I don't think that would be a great idea," I drawled dryly. "In fact, it's outright stupid."

She laughed. "Do you think that Macey McHenry, who's known for being a rich famous bitch, would care?"

"No, I suppose not," I chuckled.

After that, we settled into a silence, while Macey painted her nails and I pretended to sleep. Really, I was just thinking about everything Macey had said. It didn't seem to be true right now… or at least, I refused to believe that I had feelings, especially for Zach of all people. But there was something about it that I felt. It was like I had accepted what she was saying… but I couldn't have! Nevertheless, what could explain how I felt complete… like a question had just been answered? What could explain how I felt like another piece of my life had just come into place?

_What a mess of a life you have, _I shook it off and allowed myself to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

**Catherine's POV**

"Where did you go?" Joseph demanded, narrowing his eyes until they were two cat-like slits. That's what he was: a slinky cat with his graceful movements and his habit of slipping through your fingers; always watching from the shadows and seeing everything. "You had disappeared the whole afternoon; and do I have to remind you that you're in no position to sneak off?"

"I'm fully aware of that," I met his sharp gaze with my own fierce one. "But just because I'm good enough to slip past the tabs you've been keeping on me, doesn't mean you have to be so bitter about it. It's okay to lose sometimes."

"If this is a game, Catherine, we're playing with your life," he reminded me, before plastering an arrogant look on his face. "My ancestor and namesake, Ioseph Cavan, once said _'the person who plays with his own life is a fool; but the person who plays others' always wins the war'_. What were you really doing out there, Catherine? Who was your contact? What are you aiming to do?"

"I was really out there to kill," I lied convincingly… then again, I wasn't completely lying. I really had killed someone on the way home. "My contact was the guy I was aiming to kill and my aim was to kill my contact."

"Was it really?" he cocked an eyebrow dangerously; I felt a threatening message wash through the space between us. "Catherine, I'm under the impression that you weren't out to kill someone and were, in fact, meeting someone… not just to kill."

"And who do you propose that I met?"

"Joe Solomon," he declared, revealing a remote control, which he had kept hidden up his sleeve (just like all the other tricks he had). He pressed a button and a flat screen TV slid out of the wall and turned on. It was CCTV footage of my consultation with him in the small café. _Breathe, _I tried to calm myself. _You've got back-up._

"Can you explain this, Catherine?"

"Hmm… if I was at that café at 1532, can you explain this?" I grabbed the remote and flicked it to the news. The headline was blaring out _JUSTIN BIEBER FOUND DEAD! _**(A/N I don't have much against Justin; I just used him as an example) **A news reporter was explaining in a dull monotone about how Bieber's body was found, lying in an alley, at around 5 o'clock. They had approximated his death to be one and a half hours previous. The reporter began to say how devastated fans all over the world were mourning and how it had led to over seven suicide attempts.

It was there that Joseph began to speak, having regained his calm composure. "Why did you kill Bieber? What was the purpose of it?"

"I wanted to prove to myself, and to you, that I'm still perfectly capable of killing a human being. And there's the proof."

"It may have been someone else, and you're just claiming someone else's work," he suggested.

My laugh was taunting, making his left ear twitch, like I had noticed it did whenever he was aggravated. I grinned and said sarcastically, "I'm hurt that you thought I was so dishonourable. But I expected it. Here is a lock of Bieber's hair. If you can find the fingerprints of anyone but me, you are free to accuse me of breaking rules."

"They could have used gloves," he turned the strands of hair over, examining it carefully. I had already guessed that he wouldn't trust me.

"Check Bieber's footage then," I volunteered. "I assure you, Mr Cavan, I am perfectly honest."

"I shall postpone any judgement against you until we have inspected the case thoroughly," he said gravely and set the hair into a glass container with a pair of tweezers. I didn't say anything as I left the room.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey, guys! Here's the next update! Sorry it came a bit late; exams are creeping up on me! Also, I'm sad to say this is the last update until exams are over - that's in about two weeks! Sorry! J x**

**Catherine's POV**

The next time I snuck out of the Circle's base was a lot harder than the first time. It had taken over one week's preparation. At least I knew Solomon had succeeded in the task I had given him… so far. If Cammie had been found, the news would be flying all over the Circle's gossip.

Now that Joseph Cavan had even more suspicions of me, the security was even tighter than before. You couldn't go to the toilet without someone watching you and noting down your movements. I knew it only took one more provocation until I had a death sentence hanging over my head, but I couldn't leave Cammie to face the Circle alone. She needed my help, even though she was unaware of it.

And I wasn't finished with helping her. I still had a lot more to do.

I knew I had already overstayed my welcome… and if I returned to this place after today's adventures, it would be suicide. But some things are worth suicide.

Yes, you heard right. I had been in the sewers of the Circle's base, fishing my way through all the gunk of assassins' waste. Ugh, sometimes it hurts you to be selfless and caring. Look at me now compared to before. It's a perfect example.

Right now, I was in another conference with a CIA agent. This time, it was my lifelong rival, Rachel Cameron… or as she was now known, Rachel Morgan. But now, things were different. I couldn't hate her, because she was the reason that the two people I cared for most in this world were alive.

She was regarding me with an infuriatingly unreadable expression and a faint smile playing across her lips, like she was amused. I had always hated that about Rachel: the fact that she always acted like she knew what you were thinking. And even more frustratingly, she usually _did _know what you were thinking.

"So… why did you ask to see me in the dead of night?" she raised an eyebrow, looking strangely like Cammie. She gestured around us, which was what she was talking about. "And of all places, did you have to choose the women's toilets?"

"It's more private," I grunted in reply.

"Right," she blinked and then eyed me suspiciously. "Since when have things been personal for you and not strictly professional?"

I ignored what she said. "I propose a deal. I know after our school years of rivalry, our relationship has stayed as full of hate as always, but if you want to see Cammie safe, this is probably your only chance."

At the mention of Cammie's name, she pricked up. "What do you want me to do?"

"Here are some documents, full of decoys. Look after them and make them look real. You're not the only one with decoys, but to as a precaution, I'm giving you some too… just in case the other person gets found out."

She stared at the manila folder I held. Her hand twitched as thoughts were doubtlessly running through her head, possibilities of how I could be tricking her. In the end, I just placed the folder on the surface next to the sink.

"I really haven't got all day," I sighed. "I'm leaving the documents here. If you want to help out your daughter, then take them. Otherwise, please discard them appropriately. Oh, and please don't show this to anyone else, including your precious Gallagher colleagues. As far as everyone's concerned, this meeting never happened and that folder doesn't exist."

**Cammie's POV**

"Macey? Are you awake?" I whispered into the darkness of the bedroom.

Ever since Macey figured out that I had emotions (which I was still doubtful of), she had made it her job to permanently attach herself to my side. She went everywhere with me, though I went nowhere except my room and the dining room – and I only went there because she said that she wouldn't miss Chef Louis' food for the world and that if I didn't come with her, she'd chain me up and drag me along anyway. She was my voluntary bodyguard…

And rather than rejecting her, I welcomed her help with open arms. By now, I felt so tired and exhausted of keeping up my hard outer shell up constantly.

I wasn't giving it up. Around everyone else, I was still the crazy Killer Chameleon and Macey was just the poor person who had to look after me. People steered clear of me on my way to the dining hall when they noticed me (which only happened because Macey's presence made mine known too). Even the other teachers and my ex-friends were wary around me; like they were scared I would pounce on them at any moment.

When Macey and I were alone though, I let all my anxieties and fears spill out of my mouth. She didn't criticise; she only listened intently and gave me her own opinion on everything. And seeing as I spent all day in my room, we had quite a lot of time to talk.

I wasn't the only one who changed though. Macey seemed like Queen Bitch around everyone else, even in here with all the other spies, even with her best friends and boyfriend. But when it was just us two being bored in my room, she showed that she was really intelligent and observant, and most importantly, she was caring.

I had never known what it was like to have a sister and after I had become a killer, I had never thought my sister would be a Gallagher girl, let alone one of my three old best friends.

"Yeah, I'm awake," a voice mumbled from the sofa, yawning. "Is something wrong, Cam?"

"Yes… no… I don't know…" My voice sounded a lot more scared and frightened than I had intended it to be.

"What is it?" she asked groggily, hauling herself into an upright position. At my distraught expression, she was instantly at my side, an arm around my shoulders. I laid my shoulder into hers and started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, everything's okay," Macey soothed, rocking me back and forth like I was a little kid coming crying to her mother.

"It's just… I've killed so many people!" The sentence had started as a whisper, but by the end, I was wailing and bawling like there was no tomorrow. "I've ended so many bright innocent lives with great futures ahead of them!"

"Don't say that," she scolded softly. "It wasn't your fault."

"Oh, but it was!" I wept, my whole body shaking and heaving.

"No, it wasn't." Her voice was now firm, completely sure. "It was the fault of whoever gave you that injection. You didn't know what you were doing so" –

"But I did!" I collapsed into tears again. "I was aware of what I was doing and I could have stopped at any time…. But I didn't. I'm evil, Macey. You should stay away from me. I don't deserve you or Morgan or anyone who loves me." She stayed silent, which I took as a prompt to carry on. "I don't deserve to be alive. I should be in hell, rotting in the fiery pits with Hitler and all the other murderers."

"No, you belong here, with us," she said fiercely. "You belong" –

"No, I don't. I belong in eternal punishment."

"No" –

"Macey there's no point denying" –

"If you don't stop interrupting me, I'll throw you out the window," she threatened, earning a weak smile from me. She continued, "Everyone makes mistakes. If everyone was judged by them there'd be no heaven at all and we'd all be joining you and Hitler" –

"Yeah, because everyone kills everyone for a living," I said sarcastically.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed in frustration, "What did I say about you interrupting me? It's really rude and" –

"Maybe I'd interrupt you less if you weren't so boring." I rolled my eyes, a faint grin playing at my lips.

"Ugh, that's it!" she groaned, tackling me down. Seeing as she already had me half enclosed within her arm, she had me down in less than five seconds. She dragged me to the window and placed me on the window sill. The wind was flying through my hair and the faintest trace of light was beginning to show over the horizon. It was beautiful –

"Ahhhh!" I yelled. She had just prodded my back, hard, causing me to topple over. I was lucky that two of my fingers had caught on the window sill. Hanging there, I screamed up at Macey, "What was that for? I could have died!"

She propped her elbows up on the sill and leaned over to see me better, but made no move to help me up. "You said you deserved to be in hell, so I was doing you a favour here. Besides, you wouldn't really have died. We're only one floor up. You landed gracefully on your feet when we were in the hall and that was much higher! It would be a few broken bones at most."

"But why did you do it?" I shrieked, swinging my other arm up to get a better grip.

She shrugged and grinned. "I wasn't kidding about you interrupting me."

Although I had hardly thought it would be possible, thanks to my depression, we both burst out laughing.

**Zach's POV**

"What do you want?" I growled at the woman in front of me. I had taken about half an hour trekking through the woods outside Roseville to get here.

"Oh Zach, you're here." Catherine spread into a wide smile as she eyed me closely. "My, my, you've certainly grown up. I remember the days when you a baby and you were this big." She gestured with her hands and sighed. "I missed out on a big portion of your life… I wish I got to see you grow up into the handsome man you are now…"

"I never would have stayed with you, you know. No one wants to be the child of a killer. And no killer would be sorry to see their child go anyway. They just don't care."

She smiled sadly. "How do you think Cammie would feel if Morgan left her?"

"Don't bring Cammie into this!" I yelled and without thinking, I brought my hand hard across her face. She gasped and stumbled back a few steps. Touching the red mark on her cheek, she slowly brought her horrified eyes up to mine. The trees rustled with the wind suddenly, like a sign that they were horrified at what I'd just done as well.

"Sorry," I muttered, although I didn't mean it.

"It's okay," she sighed. "If you want this to be strictly business related, then I'll just tell you that I will have to bring Cammie in this."

"What's happening?" I glared. "What are you going to threaten to do to her now?"

"I'm not threatening anything. I want to save her. That's why I'm here."

"I don't trust you," I said instantly, glancing around. "What have you got up your sleeve?"

"Nothing," she replied, pulling her sleeves up and showing them to me as if that was proof. "Look, Zach, I don't have the time to try and convince you of my intentions. Either you take the stupid folder or you don't."

I pressed my lips together… and snatched it from her hands. In acknowledgement, she nodded and said, "I've given decoys to a few others, but you will be the one to actually leave with her. Yours is the hardest and riskiest of all the jobs. All your and her papers are in the folder, but that's not all you need." She handed me one of the two briefcases she was holding. "Disguises are important too. Good luck, Zachary."

I didn't say anything as I turned on my heel.

**Bex's POV**

"Hey Mace, come here!" I hollered as I burst through the door to Cammie's bedroom.

Both of them glanced up at the intruder; both appeared annoyed that I had interrupted what looked like a hilarious conversation. Strangely, they had both sat on the floor of the room, despite there being two chairs, a sofa and a bed occupying the room too. Macey sighed and stood up, brushing herself off. She helped Cammie up too, who looked bewildered, like she had just been woken up from a dream. And depressed expression crossed her face and she looked sullenly at me.

Mental note: interrogate Macey on what they'd talked about.

"What is it?" Macey snapped.

I was surprised. Why was she so touchy about being interrupted? It didn't look like they had been doing much…

"I need you to come and see something."

"Not now," she groaned. "Can't we do it some other time?"

"It's dead urgent," I insisted, shaking my head fervently. "You need to see it now."

"But who's going to look after Cammie?"

"You think she'll run away?" I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you would have trusted her by now, after all the time you've spent in here with her."

"_She _is here too, you know," Cammie snapped. "Macey, go do whatever Bex wants you to. I'm sure I can handle anyone coming in."

"It's not that," Macey bit her lip and glanced at me, indicating that she had stopped herself from saying something around me. Yet again, I suddenly felt like I was intruding.

Cammie burst out laughing; the first time I'd heard her do that for a very long time. "You think I'm going to attempt suicide, Macey?"

Macey grinned, but her eyes weren't twinkling with the smile. "Yes, Cammie, I really do."

"I thought you said that I can't kill myself from the first floor."

"That's if someone _else _pushes you off," she argued. "You could easily die if you wanted to."

"I'll be fine," she dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

"Why don't I just get Zach?" I suggested.

Cammie's face instantly changed into a scowl and Macey shot me a warning look, like she was saying: _Be careful what you say. You're in dangerous territory. _Since when was she so protective of Cammie? Since when had they become so chummy? Just from spending a couple of minutes here, I had already seen glimpses of the old Cammie, the Cammie I loved. What had they been up to? How had Macey done it?

"He's the best agent we have," I shrugged hopelessly and ran out of the room, my head whirling. I rapped my knuckles on Zach's door.

A voice came from inside, "Don't come in!"

"Too late," I yelled back as I flung the door open.

Zach hastily shoved something under the bed before he turned his attention to me. He looked more alive than he had over the past few days, ever since Cammie came. Her lack of emotions had been slowly killing him and now he rarely came out of his room. But now, his eyes were alive once more and there was an excited grin plastered on his face, the type he got when he was about to go on a mission. It was really unusual… and suspicious.

I narrowed my eyes. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The thing you shoved under the bed," I prompted.

"Nothing," he mumbled. He swiftly changed the subject. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"I have to go… out somewhere," I said vaguely. "And Macey has to come too. Can you watch Cammie while we go?"

He looked thrilled and his eyes glazed over in something that I thought might be adoration. It took him over twenty seconds to snap out of his thoughts and that was only because I had begun to speak. Man, this guy had it really bad for Cammie!

"So are you up for it?"

"Never been readier," he spread into a wide smile. "I can't wait."

"Macey thinks Cammie's going to commit suicide," I warned. "I don't think you'll be making it any easier for her."

"Why did you come to me then?"

"I wanted to give you a chance," I smiled sadly at him. "You guys are meant for each other and every minute you're not together is agony for you. I feel terrible for you."

"Aw, that's sweet of you, Bex!" He laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when Bex says something about true love and feelings!"

"Don't push it," I grumbled. Then I reminded him, "Don't let her out of your sight."

"I won't," he promised, but he had a malicious glint in his eye that told me a different story.

"I'm serious, Zach."

"And I am too," he insisted. "I won't let her out of my sight."

"Good to hear," I sighed.

"You're welcome, Miss Romance!" he called as I was leaving the room.

I threw a tranquiliser dart at the wall, where it embedded itself an inch from his face.

**Macey's POV**

"So what's all this about?" I asked. "Why were you in such a hurry to get me out of Cammie's room?"

"I got an email." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed the message to me. "I searched the email account but it's not the account of anyone we know. Of course, it could potentially be someone we know posing as a twenty year old woman."

"Why didn't you get Jonas to check it out?" I asked, having read what it said:

_Ms Baxter,_

_How are you, old friend? It's been so long since I've last seen you! Why don't we meet up today? I heard you were teaching in that posh girls' boarding school, so we simply _must _meet up in Roseville… how about five o'clock PM? I'll meet you at the mall and we can go shopping together!_

_You have no idea how things are around here. My "friends" are so suspicious of me that I completely broke off my friendship with them. They'd _kill _me if they saw me now!_

_That reminds me: how are my daughter and granddaughter? They are well-looked after, I hope? I want to help them out. That's why I want to meet up. I want to talk to you about them and it is important… like life-and-death important._

_Your Green-Eyed Friend signing off._

_PS. Could you bring Macey McHenry with you? You said you were best friends, and I have got to meet the person I buy all my clothes from!_

_PPS Don't bringing any of your other friends or letting them know where you're going. For some reason, they make me feel really awkward._

"Jonas is back in New York, visiting Liz and Arianne, because Arianne's coming out of hospital," she explained, rolling her eyes. "If you hadn't spent so much time with Cammie, you might have heard about it."

"Well, I'm sorry," I snapped. "I was too busy stopping Cammie from going into depression to notice anyone else."

Bex stopped short. "She… she's going into depression?"

I glared at Bex and imitated her voice. "If you had spent more time with Cammie, you might have heard about it."

After that, we resided into an uncomfortable silence. We'd never been this awkward since my very first days at Gallagher, when Cammie, Liz and Bex had disliked me.

The travel to Roseville was equally quiet. She drove, while I tried to place Cammie's room among the many windows of Gallagher's majestic mansion until Gallagher was long out of my sight.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys! I'm back, and sorry for the CRAZY long wait! Here's the next chapter, but it's a bit shorter than usual though... because I need to get back into the swing of things. J**

**Macey's POV**

"So, what happens now?" I casually leant against the wall of the cinema. I spied a group of boys eyeing me approvingly and a few girls gasping and pointing at me, but I ignored them with the professional ease of a top spy.

"Now… I suppose we wait," she sighed. "The email isn't really specific, is it?"

"We shouldn't have come," I sighed and bit my lip nervously. "I have a bad feeling about this… Something's sure to go wrong. I mean, it's all a bit vague. _Come to the cinema at this time and only bring Macey._ That was pretty much it."

"Everything's fine," Bex assured me. "We're armed, remember?"

"With two knives, napotine patches and our bodies," I rolled my eyes. "They've got something called _guns_. And they _use _them, unlike the CIA."

"We'll be fine," she muttered, though it seemed a bit doubtful to me.

"Whatever."

One of the giggling girls, pushed forward by her friends, approached us. "Excuse me…?"

Bex blinked in surprise and I rolled my eyes upwards to the heavens, hoping she wasn't going to ask what I thought she was.

She did. "Are you… are you Macey McHenry?"

"No," I smiled warmly at her. "We look very alike and people sometimes mistake me for her, but the answer is no."

"Oh…" Her face fell and she walked back to her friends, shaking her head.

"People these days," I muttered sarcastically, so low that only Bex could hear. She chuckled, but she was still carefully aware of everything around us, as was I.

A woman brushed past Bex as she was on her way to the toilets. Bex blinked and brought her eyes up to mine. After so many joint missions, I knew that it meant she had found something. She discreetly flashed two tickets at me and I realised the woman had brush passed Bex, a simple but ingenious method.

"Let's go watch a movie," I grinned.

**Cammie's POV**

"Hey," a voice whispered softly from the doorway, seeming scared to enter.

I pointedly swivelled away from the owner of the voice, that annoying, silky voice that I had once (once, and never again!) loved. My arms were clasped around my knees as I hugged them tightly. I resisted the urge to rock back and forth – not because I didn't want to make Zach guilty; it's just that it was because it was becoming a bad habit.

With a sigh, Zach crossed the room and sat on the sofa. He wasn't doing anything; he merely watched as I gazed out of the window, with my hardened expression. Eventually, after about ten minutes of doing nothing, Zach burst out, "Cammie, say something… please! The silence is killing me."

Slowly, ever so slowly, I raised my eyes to his, careful to keep my (hopefully non-existent) emotions under check. "Where's Morgan? I haven't seen at all apart from in meal times. What does my daughter do during the day? Does she-?"

"Our," he interrupted suddenly.

"What do you mean?" The crease in my brow deepened as I furrowed it.

"Our, as in our daughter," he whispered, and I could tell he was wishing he could take the words back; he was terrified that I would reject what he had just said and widen the hate between us.

I took the opportunity to do so and scowled, "She might be half you, but that doesn't mean she's yours!"

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"And stop acting so careful around me," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. "I hate it. Everyone's treating me like I'm going to break any second. I don't want to be treated any different from anyone else."

"Sorry," he repeated.

"Ugh." I groaned in frustration and swivelled to face the window, for what seemed like the fiftieth time this week.

Zach came to sit next to me on the bed. "Cammie…"

"Get away from me."

He ignored my words. "Cammie, I know you don't want me to be anywhere near you, but can't you just put that aside for one moment? I have something really important to say."

I scowled, but eventually nodded. "Fine, but make it quick."

"You need to run away with me."

"Why would I do that?" I spluttered, jumping to my feet and gave an intensifying glare. "Zachary Goode, I don't know who you think you are, but there is nothing in this world that would make me run away with you."

"Really?" he raised his eyebrows and smirked. Oh, that horrible smirk was doing my head in. "Even if it was putting Catherine in danger?"

"Why would Catherine be in danger?" I demanded frantically. Then I realised how desperate I had sounded and hastily corrected it by clearing my throat and repeating it in a business-like manner. I wasn't the only one who slipped up, though. I noticed the flash of jealousy in his eyes when I got emotional about Catherine.

"This runaway escape plan was designed by her. She even organised a meeting with me in the middle of nowhere for it and probably risked her life in the process. Do you really want to repay her by not doing what she asked? And you call yourself her best friend. It would be like going against a dead person's last wish."

I thought for a moment, but still shook my head stubbornly. "I'm not going. She's not dead yet. I'll just run back to the Circle and save Catherine."

His smirk vanished. "You weren't kidding about your non-existent emotions. Cammie, Catherine is going to _die _if you get found, because she's the one spreading rumours within the Circle that you're in various places across the globe. If they find you at Gallagher or trying to free Catherine from her prison cell, they won't only kill you. Catherine and Morgan will be dead too."

I scowled. "And I suppose with this 'brilliant plan' Morgan is just going to stay here where the Circle could kill her? I won't go if she doesn't come along."

"No, Catherine has other plans for her," he replied. "She said it's just me and you –no one else can be in on it… According to the plan, whoever's taking Morgan will bring her to us in a couple of weeks."

"Ugh, I have to spend two whole weeks with _you_?" I groaned. "Why couldn't it be Macey?"

His answer came without hesitation. "Let's face it: I'm the best agent she can trust not to be a secret spy for the Circle… and she knows that I would jump in front of you if a bullet was flying towards your face."

There was a long awkward silence. What was I supposed to say to that? Was I supposed to lie and say 'ditto'? Or should I say 'I hate you'?

Finally, I spoke. "Fine, I'll go with you, Goode, but let's make it clear that this is no victory for you and your player ways. This is strictly for my _family, _not for you."

**Macey's POV**

"What do you want?" Bex demanded coldly.

Catherine laughed. "For the 'good guys', you CIA agents aren't really that polite. Even the 'bad guys' are… although it's all a fake show."

"Get to the point," Bex hissed. "We haven't got all day."

"Short and straight to the point," she observed, with a small smile on her face. "Cammie was just the same, but she's learned real manners by now. It's much more pleasant to have a bit of small talk before you get to the serious stuff."

"This is a waste of time!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms into the air in exasperation. Some people at the front yelled at me to shut up. Catherine rolled her eyes, but her facial expression became more serious.

"It really isn't," she whispered. "I've made a plan for Cammie to leave Gallagher, because she's in danger there – and so is the rest of the school. But you're not part of that plan. You're part of Morgan's."

"So what do you want us to do?" Bex looked suddenly interested.

Catherine leaned forward and took a folder out of her handbag. "All the details are in here, though you must understand that this is for your eyes only. Others are allowed to be involved, but you two are the only ones who can know where Morgan is."

"So not even Cammie can see it?" It was me who spoke. "I mean… Morgan's her daughter, right? Wouldn't Cammie be worried if her daughter suddenly disappeared?"

"I suspect she'll be too busy spending time with Zach," she mumbled, a small laugh escaping from her lips.

My jaw dropped open, but I hastily closed it, hoping that it was too dark for anyone to see. Then I grinned flippantly, impressed at this woman's abilities. "You managed to get them together? You, ma'am, are a genius."

"Well, not exactly," she grimaced modestly. "I didn't get them back together. That's would be a bit weird, seeing as I consider them both my children. No, right now Cammie is probably sulking and ignoring Zach, while Zach is trying to lighten the mood. It will be a while before they get anywhere close."

"How long is 'a while'?" Bex demanded and her dark orbs narrowed into slits.

Catherine shrugged. "It won't be long. Knowing Cammie and Zach, they'll fall in love in a couple of days."

"And they'll fall hard," I added, just imagining the way Zach and Cammie were when we were in high school. They were both so crazy about each other, but they had serious denial problems and were both so stubborn that they vowed not to admit their crushes on each other until the other did.

"That's the plan," Catherine spread into a toothy grin. "And we need Morgan to be safe too, which is it your jobs."

"I like it," I approved, tilting my head to look at Bex in a sidelong glance. "Are you in?"

"I don't like trusting a killer. And doing deals with them is against the law," she mumbled uncomfortably. "But Cammie needs our help. I'll do it."

**Cammie's POV**

"What are you doing?" I placed my hands on my hips and shot him a half-disapproving, half-amused look as I stared at the man crouching on the floor in the bathroom. He was wielding a wrench like a weapon and peering into the basin of my toilet intently like it would give him answers or instructions.

He spun around to face me with a look of surprise, which quickly faded into a boyish grin. He waved the wrench. "This is our ticket out of here. I'm using it, Cammie."

"Well, I just came in to say that I've finished packing," I told him, holding up a small black handbag. I had picked it especially because it didn't stand out. It wasn't too flashy and didn't stand out, like everything I owned.

"That was quick," he mused, standing up and brushing himself off to talk to me easier. There was a dark patch on his large grey top, marking where the toilet water had hit him. I snorted, but he decided to ignore it and continued, "You know, most women would need a huge suitcase to fit everything in. And you're standing here with a handbag the size of my shoe. What have you got in there?"

"Just a couple of clothes that I've never worn before," I replied. "The Circle would recognise everything else. I'll buy something while we're on the run. Speaking of which, can you tell me where we're going?"

"No." His lips pressed together tightly as he stubbornly folded his arms over his chest. "And don't try manipulating me. I'm not telling you or you might run."

"Why would I do that?"

He sighed. "You'd probably try to free Catherine or join Morgan in her own expedition."

"Excuse me!" I exploded. "You might not care for your own daughter or mother, but I do! You can't blame me for wanting to be with them! They might be your blood, but they're my family!"

"I do," he murmured, almost inaudible to my ears.

"No, they're my family! Wait, what did you say?"

"I do," he repeated, now in a stronger tone. "I do care for them… well, maybe not my mother. But I care for my daughter – our daughter."

"She's not your daughter," I growled.

He frowned. "But… you just said…"

"I know what I said! It's just you're always so… Ugh!"

For a few silent seconds, his eyes searched mine for lies, but found an impenetrable wall come up instead. The hopeful look in his eyes dissolved into a helpless one. His faith that the old Cammie was somehow still there had been crushed, swatted like a fly. His shoulders slumped, and the hand holding the wrench shook ever so slightly as he slid back onto the floor. When he next spoke, it sounded like he was struggling to hold back tears. "I'll… I'll just… get back to dealing with the toilet."

A small tug in the pit of my stomach had me instinctively crouching next to Zach, before I even knew what was happening. It was almost like I was feeling something… but that was impossible. The injections and therapy combined with my absolute hatred for Zach made sure of that. The old Cammie wasn't there anymore. She hadn't come back, right?

I pushed my troubling thoughts of Zach to the back of mind as I crooned reassuringly, "Hey, I'll rephrase what I said. I'm okay with you caring for Morgan."

"You are?" The hope was back in his glistening green orbs.

"Yeah, Morgan could do with a dad, even if I hate him," I said in a muffled voice and my hands found his. At his touch, he jolted from surprise and a shock of electricity that I knew both of us felt. What was I getting myself into? First telling him I don't mind him being Morgan's dad and then _holding his hand?!_

"Thanks," he smiled weakly and then laughed sadly. "You must think I'm so sappy and unmanly. You're right, I'm so 'ugh'."

"Sometimes that sort of father is good for a young girl. Not all the time of course, but a sensitive guy is better than an indifferent one."

He smirked half-heartedly, while a lone tear rolled down his cheek (which he hastily wiped away). "So you're saying I'm better than other guys."

"Keep dreaming, lover boy," I rolled my eyes. "I was talking about father-daughter relationships. And you're definitely not my daddy."

"I hope not." Looking slightly reluctant, he took his hand out of mine again to hold the wrench. My own hand felt slightly empty without Zach's there… What was I saying?

I shook the thoughts out of my head once more. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You asked that before, remember?"

"No, I meant why are you trying to escape through the toilet?"

"Look at the blueprints." He absentmindedly handed me some blueprints of the school's sewerage system.

I chucked them into the bin. "I memorised that before the first year had gone by. And it was through first-hand experience, not just by staring at the blueprints."

"Why did you do that?" He looked at the bin in shock, like he couldn't believe I had just thrown the blueprints in the recycling bin. "You might have memorised the whole school, but I haven't!"

"Well, I thought we could make a more dignified exit," I shrugged. "But if you'd rather crawl through a hundred girls' waste, that's fine by me too."

He jumped to his feet. "I should have guessed you'd have a set of passageways you know."

"And it's just here," I gestured around us, at the bathroom we were standing in. I pressed my finger to the top corner of a tile and slid it down to the bottom. A narrow tunnel opened up before us.

"You ready?" I asked.

"You bet on it," he smiled.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks for reviewing guys! Any fellow authors out there would know that reviews put huge goofy smiles on our faces! Sorry for the long wait, everyone! I was suffering from writer's block. But I think I'm okay now. J**

**Bex's POV**

"Everyone, get down!" a chorus of gruff voices yelled, and all though we were at a similarly dramatic part to the film, the public of Roseville were clever enough to notice the shouting wasn't out of the screen and started screaming their heads off. A flood of twenty men in black uniform, each holding a rifle swamped in.

Immediately, I clasped my hand around Catherine's throat. "I should have known not to trust you."

"It's. Not. Me." She choked out. The wall that her eyes usually hid behind had vanished. Now it was replaced with fear and truth, but I was too angry to care. I just had to have someone to blame.

"Leave it, Bex," Macey put a hand on my shoulder. "It's no use now. Just concentrate on getting out of here."

"Fine," I sighed, releasing her neck from my grasp, leaving Catherine to rub her neck gingerly. "It's time to go, Mace."

As one, we launched ourselves down the aisle towards the midst of the Circle agents. And before they knew it, we were fighting like twin war machines, completely in sync, except without the guns.

**Pros of fighting against armed agents**

We took them surprise.

They underestimated us.

They couldn't fight properly while holding rifles.

They couldn't shoot because they didn't have a shot.

They couldn't shoot because we were right next to them, period.

**Cons of fighting against armed agents.**

They used their rifles as extra hard arms.

Some of the agents were crazy enough to ignore their comrades and just shot at us anyway, landing a bullet in my right arm.

"Leave them!" a booming voice commanded. "They're not worth it. We need Catherine. And we want her alive!"

The agents streamed towards Catherine, who placed herself in a defensive position and gave her fiercest scowl. The agents weren't fazed though. Soon there were so many agents surrounding her that only the top of her head was visible. She craned her neck up higher to see us and shrieked, "Don't tell Cammie!"

Then her head disappeared too.

**Cammie's POV**

"This is the end of the tunnel," I whispered, feeling relieved that in a moment, I wouldn't have to be so uncomfortably close to Zach. "You just have to climb up that ladder and then jump down from the tree."

"So the tree is hollow?" Zach asked, sounding amazed.

"After all you've seen in your spy years, you're impressed by a tunnel and a hollow tree?" I stared at him weirdly.

"I'm not impressed." In the dim light, I saw him look as his feet; whether it was with embarrassment or sadness I didn't know. "I was just remembering… something."

"What did you remember…? Oh…" I trailed off my question as I found the answer in my own memories and colour rose to my cheeks.

_**[Flashback]**_

"_Aren't you going to ask where we are, Gallagher Girl?"_

"_No," I smiled at where I thought Zach's head was which was hard because I was under a blindfold. "I'm sorry, but I don't ask pointless questions, Blackthorne Boy."_

"_Fine," Zach replied and I could tell he was smirking, "if you think you're so clever, tell me where we are now."_

"_In the forest," I grinned smugly._

"_No shit, Sherlock," he chuckled. "You don't know where we are, do you?"_

"_I do!" I protested and slapped where I predicted his arm would be. I missed and instead swiped the air._

_He burst out laughing and panted between breaths, "Yeah, real impressive."_

"_Alright, how about I lead you instead?" I took my hand out of his and crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "That way, we can see if I know what I'm doing or not. Just tell me where we're going and I'll take us there, blindfolded."_

"_Okay, we're…" he paused suddenly. "Wait a second! Are you trying to con me into giving away the surprise?"_

_I hesitated. "Maybe I am… Maybe I'm not…"_

"_Oh, you're good! And evil!" he gasped and started tickling me. Tickling was something I was highly vulnerable to and Zach always used it to his advantage._

"_Stop it!" I giggled uncontrollably, writhing in Zach's arms. "This is so unfair, Zach! I can't see you, so I can't defend myself!"_

"_Well, you should've thought about that before you tried to trick me, shouldn't you?"_

"_Alright, alright, you win! I'll do anything; just let me go!" I howled with laughter._

"_Say that I am the best spy in the world and I'm the hottest guy ever," Zach said._

"_No!" I yelled, struggling even more._

"_I don't think that's a wise choice," Zach smirked, tickling me with even more ferocity._

"_Okay, okay," I laughed. "You, Zachary Goode, are the best spy in the world and the hottest guy ever!"_

"_Good Gallagher Girl," he chuckled. "Now I've got that saved on my phone forever."_

"_Oh, you didn't!"_

"_I did. Now shut up, because we're almost there." He let me out of his embrace and led me by his soft hand. I felt a different set of leaves crunch below my feet, crispier and less needle-like. With the (strange, gentlemanly) help of Zach, I ascended up a… tree. What?_

"_Zach, why are you making me climb up a tree? Are you going to leave me sitting up here, blindfolded and alone, as some sort of prank?"_

"_Tempting," Zach considered it. "But no, I'm not going to ditch you. I can't ask what I want to if you're not with me."_

"_Whatever the question is, my answer is no," I replied with a grin, settling into place on the branch of the tree, where Zach had guided me to sit._

_He took my blindfold off and looked me deep in the eyes, green against blue. Those soft fingers stroked my dishwater blonde hair tenderly and tucked the stray strands behind my ear. It felt so… right to have Zach sharing such an intimate, special moment with me. He whispered in my ear, "So if I asked you _not _to be my girlfriend, you'd still say 'no'? I guess that makes you my girlfriend, Gallagher Girl."_

"_Y-you were asking me to… date you?" I jaw dropped open as I suddenly recoiled from him._

_The smile on his face fell as his confidence did too. "Yeah… So… what do you say to that?"_

"_What makes you think I'm into you?" I raised an eyebrow and swung my legs casually underneath the branch._

"_I found out from the girls," he shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but failing terribly. "And they were making fools of themselves by trying to get us together, so I decided to give it a shot. I mean, if you just want to stay friends, that's fine by me too. You know what? It was a stupid idea anyway, and a long shot. You're probably not even that into me and you're friends are just" –_

_I cut him off with a kiss. It was so sudden, unexpected for the both of us. I didn't even realise I was doing it until our lips were rocketing fireworks. It was that moment I realised there was and would never be another guy for me. Zach was _the one. _Initially, the only parts of our body in contact were our lips, but it wasn't soon after when our bodies slid perfectly into place against each other, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. One of my arms automatically crept around his neck, and both of his enclosed around my waist in a tight embrace. He pulled me closer to him…_

_And I lost my balance, leaving me dangling from the tree with only a pair of muscular arms preventing me from falling into the mess of damp leaves below. I stared faithfully into his eyes, which seemed to be terrified that he wouldn't have the strength to hold me up. Looking slightly pained, he hauled me up onto the branch once more._

"_I don't think it's the best idea to make out in a tree," I panted breathlessly, adrenaline rushing through my veins like fire. "Why did it have to be out here anyway? Couldn't you ask me out inside the mansion, rather than drag me out here blindfolded? I missed Chef Paulo's dinner for you!"_

"_Hey, I don't want to be ordinary and asking you out on the phone or something sure is boring," he replied. "Besides, there's something special out here. Look out there."_

_I averted my eyes to where he was pointing, a gap between the leaves. Out in the distance, the sun was descending behind the horizon, dark orange like I had never seen it before. The sky was tickled pink and the clouds were tinged with purple. The stars were beginning to come out, twinkling like small gems in the sky – beautiful._

"_Wow, Zach," I breathed, fully conscious of his arm around my waist and my head on his shoulder. "It's amazing."_

"_Thanks," he smiled genuinely, which made my heart do a small flop. "I wish this moment could last forever and ever."_

_I sighed, "Same here."_

_**[End of flashback]**_

"Stop grinning and move," I shattered us both out of the memory. "Or if you're going to stand there, looking like a complete idiot, I'll climb up the ladder first."

I shoved him out of my way, still raw from the fresh memory of our first make out session. The ladder was grimy, but I didn't really care. I couldn't stand too close to Zach, in case I might smell the sweet scent of cologne and soap that he still had over the years. It brought back to many painful recollections.

As soon as I was out of the hollow trunk, I jumped down, before I noticed which branch I was standing on or if that gap in the leaves was still there.

"Chillax," Zach soothed as he landed beside me. "We don't need to rush."

"Oh, I assure you, we do," I snapped, striding ahead and not waiting for him to follow. "Someone might see us."

He shook his head. "They wouldn't. It's dinner time. Besides, people get careless when they rush."

"Not me," I barked. "Now be quiet and hurry up."

For the next few minutes, we simply walked in silence, but Zach was the next to speak, "Uh, Cammie?"

"What?" I spat the word so venomously that Zach held both his hands up, like he was calming a tiger.

"You're, uh, heading the wrong direction," he mumbled nervously. "We're going that way."

"Ugh!" I voiced my frustrations and stomped the way he was pointing. He dutifully followed me, sighing as he kept up with my brisk pace easily, due to his long strides and long legs. The next few minutes were spent with me muttering profanities against Zach and him listening with mild interest at what I had to say. Occasionally he'd stop my rushing flow of curses to show me where we were supposed to head next.

But my snappiness was okay with him. He may have been anxious and wary of me initially, but he definitely wasn't frustrated at my meaningless anger. He didn't defend himself when I tried to make him mad or (at the very least) unsettled. I didn't have effect on him at all. In fact, he seemed to welcome every verbal blow that I attacked him with. He was the perfect gentleman and I was the vicious demon. I think that was the main reason I became increasingly angry with him.

We finally reached the edge of the woods, where Zach vaguely pointed in the direction of Roseville through a gap in the trees. His obvious statement made me even crabbier, although I knew he was just trying to help.

"Let's go, Gallagher Girl," he urged, trying to take hold of my hand. I slapped his away. He just shrugged like he didn't care about my rejection and walked out of the forest, in clear view of a surveillance camera which a civilian had set up. Then he turned to face me once more, tilting his head like he was saying _are you coming or not?_

"What are you doing?" I spluttered, gesturing at the surveillance with my hands to illustrate my point. "There are _cameras _right in front of you. That's just like giving the Circle a gold invitation to come and kill us, with a complimentary gun!"

"And that's also the plan," he smirked. "We want them to see us. We'll lead them down some crazy trail, while we'll be doing something else."

I grumbled a string of curses as I strode in front of him. I tossed a glance over my shoulder at him to see if I had drawn a reaction from him, but he just smirked.

"This way, princess," he laughed, though it sounded only half-hearted to me. "We're going to the car rental place."

"I know where the car rental is." I led the way defiantly.

**Morgan's POV**

Being the only ten year old girl in this school, I didn't take any lessons. Rachel (it felt weird calling her Grandmother after I had just met her) had offered to assign me a class, but I declined. I didn't want any more attention than I already got.

So now, I was just exploring the school. It felt so weird to think that when my mother was my age, she was probably doing the same thing as me, walking the same halls, awed at the same majesty of this timeless mansion. But it gave me comfort too. It made me remember that once, she was just as innocent as me. She had been a little girl too, she had been a moody teenager, and she had been a budding spy – on the side of the law.

Then it grossed me out. Mom and my dad probably spent a chunk of their high school years kissing in this same place.

I entered the now empty dining room, trying to imagine girls from this century and from the last sitting and chatting in different languages. Mom was here, laughing with Bex, Macey and a younger version of the woman she shot in the stomach, Liz. Mom and Zach denied their attraction to one another here; Bex and Grant flirted; Macey gave fashion tips to other girls; and Liz and Jonas shyly talked about their firewalls. Catherine was here too, with Rachel and Abby, having fun and being a teen. And far before that, Gillian Gallagher sat in the chair that Rachel sits in presently, discussing Ioseph Cavan and her envisions of Gallagher Academy's future.

"There she is!" a voice declared and a figure scrambled out of the shadows. He was clad in black and no other colour. He began approaching me, and the gap in his black mask showed his bared teeth. Two men emerged from behind him, flanking him on either side.

"W-what do y-y-you want with me?" I stuttered, the terror evident in my eyes.

"Information," the same voice came from the man in the middle.

"I don't have any!"

"Stop with the act." It was another voice, but this one was familiar… I just didn't know where from. "We know you're aware of the location of the Circle and we want it."

"Who are you?" I panicked, backing away from them, into the shadows on the other side of the room. It was a bad idea. Here was a blind spot in the surveillance.

They didn't answer my question. Instead, they took the opportunity to pounce at me. I shrieked as they tackled me to the ground, but one of them clasped a hand over my mouth. The other two searched for cameras, but finding none that could see us here, they seemed to relax.

"Give me the bottle," one of them hissed and another gave it to him. He uncapped it and poured it over my torso. It was a thick liquid, as dark red as blood. I struggled to scream, but the hand clamped over my mouth meant it came out as a frantic hum. Then another attacker fired a shot of his gun, but it wasn't at me. It was a blank shot at the wall. Finally, the hand over my mouth came off and I screamed for help.

Bex, Rachel, Jonas and Mrs Buckingham came rushing in. My three attackers stopped what they were doing and rushed out to deal with the new threat. But it was four against three, and although Rachel and Mrs Buckingham were really old and combat wasn't Jonas' area of expertise, the three attackers were down within two minutes. Rachel and Jonas were unmasking the three men in black, but from my angle, I couldn't see their identities. Bex and Mrs Buckingham rushed towards where I was and crouched next to me.

Bex whispered, "Pretend you're unconscious."

"Why?" I asked, in an equally quiet voice.

"Just do it. I'll explain later." I closed my eyes and felt two strong arms pick me up carefully and carry me out of the hall.

**Cammie's POV**

"I booked a car and I've come to collect," I declared to the short old man behind the desk, thinking _I hate Zach, I hate Zach, I hate Zach, and I hate Zach. _He had forced me to wear a super short skirt and a top that showed too much cleavage and his excuse was that he needed the man who gave out the keys (and the Circle agents who would be watching me through the cameras) to be distracted while Zach switched the car keys behind the man's back. But I was pretty sure that the real reason I was wearing this particular skirt and top was just so _he _could have a nice view.

"Sure thing, gorgeous." He shot me a 'killer' smile that looked more like someone had punched him in the gut… which at this rate; I was going to be doing. He brought out a stack of papers and a pen, not realising that Zach was swapping our keys with the keys of someone else (we switched it with a car we knew would be taken out today).

"Sign here and here, love," he directed, pointing at the signature box like I couldn't read for myself. He probably thought that just because I was dressed like this, I had to be stupid. It was such a stereotype. But instead of giving him what he deserved for it, I simply smiled like I never would have guessed where I'm supposed to sign if he hadn't told me. I wrote my name down in clear writing, drawing a heart for the dot of the 'i', like Dee Dee used to do when she was writing to Josh.

"Thanks," he grinned, giving me a once over again. Then he turned around to get our keys, by which time, Zach had already sneaked out. He didn't even check the number to see if it was the car we were _supposed _to take. "It's the black Audi A1 Sportback."

"Thank you," I smiled, trying to take the keys from his hand, but he pulled his arm back abruptly.

He tapped his cheek. "I'll give it to a sweet lady like you if you give me a little something back."

"You want me to kiss you?" I spluttered, stumbling back.

Suddenly, Zach appeared beside me. "Sorry, dude, but she's already taken."

I tried to smile through gritted teeth. I was all too aware of his arm slung over my shoulder and the how close he was standing to me. At least the man bought it. He sighed, but dropped the keys in my outstretched palm.

As soon as we were out of the building, I shrugged Zach's arm off of my shoulders and glared at him. "What was that for?"

"I was saving you, from kissing the ogre, Gallagher Girl."

"I'd rather kiss him than have your arm around me," I growled.

He replied sarcastically, "Oh no, my poor broken heart will never heal!"

"Let's just get the car," I sighed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Cammie's POV**

"_This _is the car we're going to run away in," I stared at the car, blinking like if I blinked enough, the car would change. Even in this dim narrow backstreet, it was glowing in its lightning blue glory. It was hard to imagine how wacky it would look in sunshine. It would probably be blinding.

"Is there anything wrong with it?" Zach asked innocently, opening the driver's door.

I glared at him. "Yes, there is. It's too flashy. People everywhere will be looking at us, including the Circle."

"But that's where you're wrong, Gallagher Girl," he grinned. "The Circle is looking for a woman who likes to keep a low profile, so they'll be watching every Toyota and, of course, Audi A1 Sportsback. They would never suspect their precious Chameleon to be driving in a convertible MINI Cooper Roadster. Is there any other thing wrong with it?"

"Yes," I set my jaw stubbornly, but then realised that me not liking the small, cosy atmosphere of the car would suggest that I was uncomfortable around him. The last thing I wanted was to see Zach's already huge ego swell even more, by letting him know that he unnerved me. So I stayed silent.

"Are you going to tell me it?" He raised an eyebrow after a couple of seconds of silence.

"No," I replied, taking my sunglasses from my pocket and putting them on. Without another word, I clambered into the car. Zach got in too, and ignited the engine. With a deep breathe, I realised we'd finally begun our journey. There was no going back.

**Morgan's POV**

"What's happening?" I asked, once Bex, Macey and I were the only ones in the bedroom at last. "Who were those people? Why didn't Gallagher's security system catch them earlier? Were they the same people who attacked you this morning?"

Macey shifted on the sofa, wincing with the pain that her leg brought. She had been hit by a bullet earlier today, though nobody was telling me why. It was killing me, being kept in the dark this whole time. They wouldn't even let me see my mother.

"Morgan, don't freak out but your attackers were Grant, Nick and a friend you don't yet know called Edward Townsend," Bex said calmly. My eyes widened considerably and I opened my mouth to scream. Macey clapped her hand over my mouth and repeated what Bex said: "Don't freak out."

"Why would they do that?" I gasped, once Macey removed her hand from my mouth. "I thought they were your friends. For God's sake, they're your husband and boyfriend… and I don't know who Townsend is, but he sound like a CIA agent."

"He's retired," Macey corrected me. "The attack was staged so it wouldn't be suspicious if you suddenly disappeared. They covered you in pig's blood and shot an empty gun to make it seem like they shot you. We'll just cover up by saying you are healing from your bullet wound and we put you in this room for privacy. Grant, Nick and Townsend are already on their way to CIA headquarters in handcuffs."

"You're arresting them, just so I can escape from this place?" I asked incredulously. "But… but… you can't do that!"

"We can, and we are," Bex declared, a fierce look shining on her face. "They understand the importance of taking down the Circle. Hopefully we'll have that organisation destroyed in a few weeks and spending a few weeks in a cell isn't too bad."

"Does the Director know that they are innocent?" I asked, wide eyed.

Bex shook her head. "This mission is strictly on a need-to-know basis. The Director isn't part of it."

"But… if you weren't given the mission by the Director, who gave it to you?"

"Let's just say your grandmother has been very busy," Macey smiled mischievously, though I sensed there was some guilt laced into it. Before I could wonder more about it, she continued, "Now let's get this show on the road. Bex and Morgan, have a nice time in Los Angeles. My leg is busted so I can't go… but bring back some pictures of Hollywood!"

"What about Mom? Is she coming? Does she even know about this?"

They shared a glance, seeming to have a conversation with only their eyes. Then Bex spoke up. "Morgan, we think you're mother has already left with your dad."

"What?!" I yelled, jumping to my feet.

**Zach's POV**

"Welcome to Springfield," I read, a faint smile on my face. I glanced at Cammie, but she was as stoic and silent as before, staring straight ahead with her hands crossed over her chest. She had purposely put her sunglasses on, to prevent me from trying to read her eyes or even merely looking at them because they were beautiful, just like the rest of her. "Why don't we go to the mall?"

"Unnecessary," she replied. Cammie always kept her answers monosyllable these days; and when she had to say more than one word answers, her sentences were as short as possible. It made her seem more stupid than she seemed – it diminished her show of Gallagher girl knowledge and I didn't like it at all. "It's a luxury."

"Come on," I tried to coax her, "all girls love shopping, right?"

She glared, "Not this one."

"I'll put it this way for you," I said. "We need somewhere to park and the Springfield Mall is perfect – dark and full of other cars, which we'll need later. And we need to change disguises."

"Fine," she scowled and climbed out of the MINI. I'd miss this car. It had been quite enjoyable to drive, with the sun grinning down on our backs while the wind danced through our hair. And of course, it had been a cosy two-seater, meant for couples. Cammie had no choice but to sit next to me, with only a narrow car gear shift between us.

She stalked off towards the entrance of the mall, while she muttered curses under her breath and dumped a white-blonde wig with a bob on her head. I followed her example and took a hazel brown wig, which I took from Cammie's supply of disguises in her large handbag.

At the mall, she went on an ordinary woman's shopping craze, despite what she said about shopping being unnecessary. She went around to each store and bought about ten different clothing items for both of us. She used the excuse of not having enough disguises, but I could tell she secretly enjoyed it. She couldn't resist all the pretty clothes on sale; like most other women in the world, she was a victim of shopping.

And I just watched her from Starbucks, amused. I could tell that she was crabbier every time I attempted to do something for her and the best thing I could do for her was to keep my distance. It was painful to see her delighted and happy when I couldn't be a part of her happiness, but I'd rather see her cheerful and distant that miserable and close.

Besides, her good mood was making her act nicer towards me too. It was almost as though she was drunk or high on shopping. In the few times she _did _stop to chat to me, she was miraculously kind and didn't try to annoy me. At one point, she even hugged me! I don't think she had any idea what effect she had on me, with those two arms around my shoulders. I could have stayed in her embrace forever, but to her, it was only a friendly hug in the spur of a crazy shopping moment.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked after I approached her, eyeing the four shopping bags on each of her arms and the one held by her teeth.

"Do I know you?" She looked me up and down. She had a good point. I looked like a ginger haired fifty year old man with a beard, thanks to one of the guises Catherine had given me.

"Look at my eyes," I directed her. "They're still the same."

She did so, with a sharp intake of breath, before whispering, "Not bad, Goode."

"It was Catherine's."

"That would explain it. You would never find a costume so genuine and original." She smiled and two cute dimples appeared in her rosy cheeks. "Anyway, answering your question, I _am _ready to go."

"Then let me take those for you," I said and relieved her of the nine bags – and boy were they heavy! "I'll go get the car, while you get into your next disguise."

"And what would that be?" she asked curiously. I held up a shopping bag which I packed with a disguise matching mine. She took it from me and flounced towards the bathroom.

Meanwhile, I headed towards the five-storied parking lot, trying to look inconspicuous, which was hard, considering that I was carrying more bags than the average woman. Once in the parking lot, I glanced around for cameras. Finding none in this area, I began my search for a van. It wasn't too long until I had found a perfect Ford, reading _HUNTER & SONS PLUMBING CO. _It wasn't large enough to be a truck and be suspicious, but not small enough to be considered as a car. It looked pretty old, which meant that the components wouldn't be hidden from my sight – i.e. I could hot-wire it.

I couldn't help but feel guilty. I hadn't hotwired a car since I was eleven years old, on a mission with a couple of my mom's assassins and we had to make a quick exit. She used to place me in missions as a distraction to let the murderers get past security and to give me experience for when I was older. I used to find it fun… but that was before I had killed anybody. And now, it kind of felt like I was returning to that adrenaline-filled, yet terribly wrong world.

But for Cammie's safety, I'd do anything. I'd hotwire a thousand cars; I'd kill double the amount of people she had. I just hoped whoever owned this van had insurance.

Working quickly, in case the owners of the van returned to their vehicle, I wedged open the hood and located the red coil wire. I switched the positive wire to the positive side of the battery and found the starter solenoid near the battery, on the right-side fender well, and the small wire at the top of it. Carefully brandishing a screwdriver, I crossed the different terminals, finally activating the engine.

I closed the hood as quietly as I could. Thankfully, nobody had noticed me meddling with the car's engines, so Cammie and I were still in the clear.

"So _this _is what my brilliant disguise is?" a voice hissed by my ear. "I'm practically your clone, except I pull it off better, of course! What's up with the twins look?"

"I don't know," I replied, facing Cammie (who _did _appear to look just like me, but with a more crabby expression). "Ask Catherine, not me!"

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. If this had been earlier on in the day, she would have been glaring and scowling at me, but the shopping had put her in a good mood (although it was starting to wear off) and she was only at the indifferent stage. I had a feeling it wouldn't last though. Sooner or later, she'd be back to wishing we had never found her, or even worse, that we had never even met.

**Morgan's POV**

"So Mom has run off with Zach," I stared at Bex and Macey as though they were crazy. They both nodded, one grim-faced, the other delighted. "But my mom would never do that. She hates him!"

"Well, apparently she can tolerate him for some time." Bex didn't look very happy about it and her tone was telling the same thing. "She and Zach are nowhere to be found."

"Aw, come on!" Macey rolled her eyes, grinning. "At least they're spending a while together, right? Zach's probably thanking his lucky stars that he got a bit of bonding time with her."

"He should be," I snapped. "He hurt her and she has every right to push him away. I still don't think she'd just randomly elope with him!"

Bex agreed. "She would never run off with anyone, especially not Zach! The only way I can imagine her going with Zach is if she was knocked out, tied in ropes and blindfolded, shoved in a black bin-bag, which was wrapped in chains with a lock on it (and the key was swallowed by Zach), which was dumped in a glass case full of water, which was loaded into a bulletproof boot of a car."

"Yeah," said Macey, "but knowing clear-headed Cammie, it was random and it wasn't eloping. Back in high school, she always had a motive for everything, unless it came to boys. Now that she's kick-ass Cammie, she has a motive for everything, period. Maybe it was part of Catherine's plan…"

"That alone wouldn't convince Cammie," Bex argued.

Macey shrugged. "Don't ask me. I wasn't there."

"I wasn't either," Bex pointed out. "Anyway, ow it's our turn to put Catherine's huge crazy plan into action. Morgan, you've got to pack up your stuff, because we're going to LA!"

Two hours later (yes, it took one and a half hours for Bex Baxter, international spy, to figure out how to get into the plumbing system through the toilet), we were speeding on our long journey west in one of Macey's many cars.

Bex was humming along to the radio, tapping her fingers on the wheel, her face unreadable under her fashionable shades (probably a discount from Macey). She looked perfectly relaxed, but then again, she always did – unless it was something to do with Cammie.

On the other hand, I was gazing out of my open window. I was thinking about Mom and Catherine and Zach, and how messed up all our lives were. What if none of the people I know had ever been spies? What would my normal life be like? And what if Mom had stayed with Zach? Would I never have met my grandmother? Would I feel like Zach was my father more?

"You okay?" Bex asked me with concern, using one hand to lower her sunglasses. I could see into her shining brown orbs, smiling at me with a motherly sort of affection and warmth that I had seen while my own mother visited when I was little – which I had recently found out was fake, just a pretence that Mom kept up for the impression.

"Uh yeah, I – I'm fine!" I woke up from my daydreaming. "I was just thinking…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really," I mumbled.

"Too bad," she grinned. "It's your rotten luck that you're stuck on a car trip that will last over two days with a nosy person who could break your arm in one movement. Talk about it before I become really curious. Besides, you look like you could use some advice. You're wearing that dreams-never-come-true-but-I-wish-they-did look."

"Well," I began, "I was thinking about what would happen if Mom and Zach never broke up. They obviously liked each other, so they'd be much happier for a start…"

"You have no idea how much their break-up changed both of them," Bex murmured, her mind taking a stroll down memory lane. "They didn't just like each other, Morgan. They were so crazily in love that they refused to accept missions that took over three weeks because they couldn't bear to be away from each other."

"Tell me more about it," I shifted in my seat so that I could face her better. "Tell me about their high school years and when they first started working in the CIA. No, tell me about all the happy memories you have or you know, of Mom."

Bex turned the music volume down, smiling wistfully. "Cammie and I first met when we were six years old. It was the summer holidays and we were living in different countries, but our parents knew each other through a clash in a mission before we were born, when both the CIA and MI6 sent out their best spy couples to infiltrate a terrorist organization, which headquartered in the basement of a lodge for couples in Austria. They, of course, were Cammie's mom and dad and mine. On the mission, they soon found out about each other and kept in touch after the mission.

"They had this peaceful argument going on ever since, about which was better – MI6 or the CIA. So they organised this fun competition of paintballing in London and convinced the directors of MI6 and the CIA to pay for the expenses because it was a training exercise… sort of. My parents and hers invited loads of friends and took us too and soon enough there was a group of about twenty agents, paintballing each other. It was chaos.

"Anyway, I shot Cammie in the butt and her face went so scarlet that I told her it matched the red paint on her face. Then she got this evil glint in her eye and started pelting me with paint. We spent the whole game ambushing each other. It was only after the game was over that I realised she wasn't using regulation paintballs. They were the same kind of paint used for ballistic missiles and nuclear submarines – as in, they were permanent. We laughed about it at the after party, but it took me three weeks to get it scrubbed off!"

"That's cute," I laughed, trying to imagine my mother as a six year old, but failing. Holding a gun wasn't too hard, but doing so with a grin and an 'evil glint' in her eye was impossible.

"Yeah, it was the start to a long friendship of letters."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Okay, I knew you two are old, but not _that _old. I'm pretty sure the internet was alive back then."

"I know," she grinned, "but I couldn't just let her be, after tricking me like that. So I mailed her a prank in an innocent package, with a pen pal letter attached saying at the end of it: _Don't mess with me._ She sent me one back and we were at it for three whole years."

"What happened?" I asked.

"The gaps between each package got longer and longer and we eventually lost contact. It was okay though. We saw each other again at Gallagher. Anyway, here's the next story about how Zach and Cammie met…"

**So... how do you like it? Good? Bad? Review!**

**Anyway, sorry for the long wait. My computer was down from some virus or something and I couldn't access my files where I keep all my fanfics, so I had to write it up (writer's bump HURTS) and then type it up as soon as my computer was back on track. Hopefully I'll be good for now on! J**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey everyone! Intense Zammie chapter here! J**

**Cammie's POV**

"Be extra careful around here," Zach warned. His eyes flitted up and down the street suspiciously – no person escaped his gaze. "Someone might recognise us."

I rolled my eyes. "Zach, I've been in the business for as long as you have, except on the even more dangerous side. I think I would know to be careful in the city of the CIA's new headquarters."

"Just warning you," he shrugged in his neat tuxedo. That's right. We were an Asian couple in New York on our supposed honeymoon. I hated it, of course, but Catherine had already forged our passports to suit this guise. Our safety now depended on us being a couple, however much it gave me shivers.

At least we looked the part. While in Washington, we ditched that hotwired van and our redheaded disguises with it, and replaced them with a cute blue sports car that had _Just Married _written on the number plate and two Asian disguises. We'd already ditched the car, but I had wasted over an hour just to get the disguise paste on, which changed my skin colour. At least it would wash off after two days or so.

"The aeroplane's leaving tomorrow in Boston, but we're spending the night here just in case anyone spots us there. And this is the hotel," Zach gazed upwards at the height of it. That was the thing with New York; it never ceased to make you admire the skyscrapers, towering over you magnificently.

I looked at the mat and my eyes widened. "But… this is the Pearl Hotel!"

"What's your point?" Zach asked, looking at me weirdly.

"Zach, this is one of the most luxurious hotels in New York!" I gaped. "How did Catherine get the money for it?"

"Oh, through her savings…" Zach said casually, but it sounded fake to my sharp ears, leaving me wondering what he was really thinking. "It's only one suite, for one night, Gallagher Girl. It wasn't _that _much."

"How would you know that?" I raised an eyebrow. "You're speaking like you booked it yourself."

He shrugged. "Catherine knew you'd freak out at how she'd got a suite like this, so she told me to say that she didn't spend too much effort over it."

I stared at him for a while, still unconvinced. In the end I settled for his story. It would be better to agree with a lie than accept the fact that Zach probably spent his own money just so I'd feel more comfortable here. It was ungrateful – I know – but I was still coming to terms with the thought that Zach _might _have actually loved me all along. It was too impossible to admit. It was easier to think that he was just trying to play me again so that he could say he did it twice on the same woman.

"Let's just go inside," I brushed it off. Beside me, I felt a sigh of relief breathe out of Zach and then he strode forward with me.

We approached the door of the hotel, squeezing each other's hands, but not otherwise in contact. That changed suddenly, when Zach let go of my hand, grabbed hold of my waist and dragged my body towards his. He used his other arm to manoeuvre my same hand around his shoulders

"What are you doing?" I hissed, as the doorman swiftly let us in.

"Acting in love and just married," he whispered as he shot me a dazzling smile to keep up the pretence. "Sorry to break it to you, Gallagher Girl, but you're not doing a very good job at it. I had to improvise."

I shot him one too, for the same reason. "Well, this is just weird. Nobody walks like this."

"Is this better?" he asked. I was about to ask what he meant by that, but the answer came sweeping me off my feet before I could – literally. He had swung me into his arms, so that he was carrying me bridal style towards the desk. I was so surprised that I let a little gasp escape from my mouth, while strangers were staring at us. I saw a woman slap her husband's head and ask why _he _didn't carry her like Zach was to me.

"I suppose it does put on a better show," I whispered back, wrapping my arms around his neck. For once, I let myself inhale his smell of cologne and fresh soap. My head rested on his shoulder, seeming to fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. I lost myself in my comfort at the proximity between us.

_Snap out of it, _a sharp voice warned me, inside my head.

Another part of me mumbled something else, exhausted after so long of struggling against Zach._ Let me be weak, just this once._

_NO! _The first voice yelled. _If you let your guard down just once, he'll be full of hope again. It will be much harder to fend him off later._

_What if I don't want to fight against Zach anymore?_

_You DO!_

_Fine, I'll keep my guard up, _the weaker part of me surrendered, which made me thankful and guiltily sad. _When we get to the suite, I'll go back to being bitchy betrayed ex-girlfriend again._

And that ended the crazy conversation going on in my head.

"How can I help you?" the receptionist didn't even look up from her computer screen.

"We've booked a deluxe queen suite," Zach started, with a slight Chinese accent.

Finally, the receptionist glanced up at us. When she did though, she gave Zach a flirty once over, checking him out, which made me hug his neck even tighter. Once I realised that I was acting like a jealous clingy girlfriend, I hurriedly relaxed, but from Zach's silent chuckle, I could tell that he had noticed how I had reacted.

"Here's your key card," she smiled at Zach.

"Thanks," Zach replied.

**Bex's POV**

"… And then Zach and Cammie fell out of the tree and landed on top of each other," I laughed and Morgan started giggling too. "When we asked them what they were doing, they just said they were working on a project. And then Macey said, 'It was one of those special projects to do with two pairs of lips and a lot of tongue movement, wasn't it?'"

Morgan giggled more, hugging the pillow to her chest like a teddy bear. "I can't imagine Mom doing 'tongue movement' with anyone, let alone Zach."

"Well I've witnessed it and I really wish I hadn't," I grinned. "You're the lucky one here. You don't know how many times I've walked into our room, just to see them two practically naked."

"Eww!" Morgan scrunched nose up in disgust, and together with being in those pink fluffy PJs, she reminded me of her mother so much that my breath hitched for a second. She broke me out of the thought though, when she shouted, "That's so gross!"

"You'd better accept it soon, little girl," I grinned, pinching her cheek. "Whether you like it or not, that's the way they made you."

Her small hands massaged her face gingerly. "That is disgusting. I'm never ever having sex… ever. It's vile."

"It's not!" I protested. Right now, my aim in life was grossing this girl out as much as possible. "Grant and I do it practically every day."

She shivered, pulling a face. "You and Grant are horrible people. It's not natural."

"It is," I argued. "It's the most natural thing in the world, because it's part of the natural life cycle of a human. Get used to it."

"I'm never ever having sex," she repeated stubbornly.

"Tell you what," I grinned, "I _bet _you that you will have lost your virginity by the age of eighteen. The loser has to buy the other whatever food they want for a day."

"You're on," she grinned confidently, holding her hand out for me to shake on it.

I did. "Now we should go to sleep. That's enough gossiping about your parents for one night. We've got a long day tomorrow and I'm not sure the other guests of the motel would appreciate the squealing about how gross sex is."

"Okay," she mumbled, climbing into her covers. "Goodnight, Bex."

"Goodnight, little girl," I smiled fondly at her as she closed her eyes.

**Cammie's POV**

I walked out of the bathroom, wrapping my towel around my hair. Showers made me feel really good, and now I felt relaxed, like I had reached inner peace or something.

That was until I saw Zach reclining on the bed, shirtless and watching me.

I screamed and tugged the towel out of my hair to cover up the rest of my body. "What are you doing here?! I thought you were going to the grill house downstairs!"

"I changed my mind," he said, smirking. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, Cammie."

"And you wanted to see me naked, because you're a pervert," I filled in, glaring intensely at him.

"Not really," he smirked more. "It's not like I've never seen your body before."

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically. "Why aren't you letting me out of your sight?"

"Don't think I'm stupid, Gallagher Girl," he tutted. "I've seen you today. You've been searching for an exit ever since we entered New York."

"No, I haven't."

"You have," he argued. "You want to do something while we're in the Big Apple, but I don't know what. Tell me."

"No, it's private," I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly. "And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't share it with you."

"That hurts," he cried dramatically, holding a hand over his heart. It was a joke, but both of us knew that a small part of him meant it too. "Come on. I don't bite, Cameron."

Something in the comforting way he said my full first name, made me think twice. I sighed and let out the truth. "It's Liz. I want to see her."

"Absolutely not," he said at once.

"What?" I was taken aback. "Zach, I shot her. I can't be in the same city, but just ignore it. I _have _to go see her. It's just wrong to leave her there in a coma."

"Since when did you care about right and wrong?" Zach asked casually as he lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was giving me a clear view of his chiselled chest. I told myself to ignore it… but I couldn't help staring.

"Since I shot my best friend," I replied, trying to stop myself from being distracted by his beautiful body.

"Too bad," he said stubbornly. "I would have liked to see her as well, but it's just too dangerous, Gallagher Girl. The Circle will probably be watching Liz carefully to see if you visit. You simply can't."

"But…"

Zach sat up again and looked me in the eyes pleadingly. "Cammie, listen to me. If you value everyone's safety, you'll stay here."

That's when I realised asking him wouldn't work. To see Liz, I'd have to do it without permission. Faking surrender, I sighed, "I guess I should stay here then."

"Thank you," he said, relief flooding into his face. I said nothing more as I re-entered the bathroom to change. Now, I had three options. I could escape from the bathroom, I could wait until Zach was asleep, or I could somehow get Zach to stay here while I went to the hospital. Option 2 was impossible – I wasn't patient enough to wait until then. Looking around the bathroom, I realised Option 1 was also unmanageable. The window was too small to climb through and fishing my way through the sewerage would take even longer than Zach going to sleep.

That meant I was stuck with Option 3 – keeping Zach here while I went. And when the solution came to me, I wasn't pleased. It went directly against my _keep your guard up _rule. But if I wanted to see Liz before I left New York, I'd have to do it.

I walked back into the bedroom, aiming at looking relaxed and happy. Zach was sitting on the bed, gazing at me with a faint smile tugging at his lips. I slid onto the bed without a word and for a moment we were both quiet, while he read a book and I stared at my hands – which were shaking in anticipation of what I was about to do.

"Can I ask you to do something, Zach?" I mumbled.

He looked up from his book with a look of surprise, like he was startled to see that he wasn't really in the world of his book. Brought back into reality, he realised it was me who spoke and his face softened. "What is it, Gallagher Girl?"

I didn't bother to say anything more. Just going for it, I smashed my lips against his furiously. It was so sudden that he jerked backwards, an instinct that all spies had when anyone came into contact with them. For a moment, I thought he was going to come to his senses and ask what I was doing, but he decided not to, probably because he knew that if he ruined the moment, he'd never get the chance again.

Our lips crashed together once more in a fiery collision of passion, and I can't say that none of it was true feelings on my part. It was like my first kiss all over again, but with Zach rather than Josh – Zach was the better kisser. A firework display was rocketing behind the lids of my closed eyes and for the first time in over ten years, I was soaring with happiness while I lost myself in the moment.

He rolled us over so I was now beneath him, and that's when I realised that if I didn't stop soon, he wouldn't only be kissing me. The thought washed over me like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over my head. Quickly, I rolled us over again so that I was on top of him – pinning him down. I reached into my back pocket, where I had concealed a pair of handcuffs, and in one swift movement, I had attached his hand to the bed.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he mumbled, once I had pulled away from him and got off the bed.

"Look at your hand," I smiled sadly at him as he saw the handcuffs and his breath hitched. "I'm sorry I had to do that, Zach."

"Don't lie to me, Cammie." His voice was a whisper, and he looked so dejected that even my half-dead heart felt something. "You're not sorry."

"No, Zach, I really am" –

"You're not." His voice was almost inaudible. Then it rose to a shaking, but yet firm tone and tears began to well up in his hardened eyes. "You're not sorry at all, Cammie. You were never sorry. You used me for your own selfish reasons. You knew I still loved you, but you chose to fill me with false hope in the cruellest way you could."

"Zach" –

"Save it; I don't want to hear your excuses. You know, when we found you I thought – no, I knew – that the Cammie I know, my Cammie, was inside you somewhere. Eleven years of being a killer had buried it, but deep inside, you were still you, right there." He reached out and jabbed me where my heart was, and then continued, "I guess I was wrong. You might have the same name and the same looks and the same goddamned amazing lips, but you are not the same person. I don't know you. You aren't my Gallagher Girl."

I tried to say something, to apologise again, but he said, "You kissed me, Cammie! You physically kissed me! Do you know how I felt? Do you know how beautiful it was for me? Do you know how much chemistry I saw there? And do you realise how heart wrenching it was for me to find out that the kiss we just shared was all false for you? Do you realise how it felt when I found out you were just playing me? You manipulated me! You are an uncaring, scheming little bitch! You're a bitch!"

I stumbled backwards, like he had really punched me. My back collided into the wall, but he didn't even care. His eyes were closed as he calmed down and became as cold as ice.

"So go and see Liz," he spat, his blessing sounding more like a curse, "but just know that the stunt you pulled tonight won't be forgiven."

"Zach, I'll stay here if you want." My heart was torn between visiting the woman I shot, and trying to make up with Zach. "Maybe I am an uncaring, scheming little bitch, but I care about you enough to want to work things out between us."

"Bullshit." He glared at me. I moved a step closer towards him again, but he swore, "If you come any closer, I will personally track down the Circle's headquarters, just so I can hand you over in person and watch your death sentence turn into reality."

"I don't care what you do," I said recklessly, stepping towards him again. "I care about what you feel. And if I made you feel like used waste that I tossed into the trashcan, I want to make it better."

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked suspiciously. "If you cared so much, then why did you handcuff me to the bed?"

"I… I… I didn't realise how… much I cared… until I kissed you… until you poured your heart out to me, even if you were angry…" What I said was true. The hesitations were because I didn't want to admit it out loud, but Zach didn't know that. He thought I was lying, again.

"Get out!" he roared, but I only winced. "I said get out! I don't care if you go see Liz or something; just get away from me!"

I didn't do what he said, but did something else instead. Meekly, I pulled out the key to the handcuffs and unlocked them. His hand fell from the bedpost, but he didn't have any reaction – he just looked out of the window, ignoring me completely.

"Look at me, Zach." He didn't, so I gently turned his head in my hands until he faced me. "I honestly don't think I could ever love you again. My heart has had too much pain and scars from you that I think it's not possible to love anyone the way I loved you. But I think that I might still care, although I don't want to, and that care is the reason I've unhand-cuffed you. So shout at me all you want, but right now that care is winning the war inside of me. For the moment, I'm going to apologise until I'm blue in the face. Tomorrow, I might be back to bitchy Cammie, so I just want you to know now, that no matter how bad my attitude is, your Gallagher Girl still cares, somewhere inside me."

"Please," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "just leave, Cammie."


	25. Chapter 25

**OMG! So many reviews! I'm dying in happiness right now; you have no idea. Thank you so much everyone for all the support. You guys haven't just made my day – you've made my year! J**

**Cammie's POV**

_Alright, that's enough, Cammie, _I told myself and I hastily wiped away my tears. But my eyes weren't listening to my brain. They were acting of their own accord and tears spilled down my cheeks anyway.

I was sitting in a narrow alleyway, hugging my knees to my chest so tightly that it dug in painfully. The ground and the wall I rested against were cold, but the way I had played Zach was even colder, and now I was utterly full of regret. All I wanted to do is reverse the clock and redo it all. I would have promised myself that I'd see Liz once he was asleep, or just not go at all and visit once everything with the Circle had blown over.

_It's too late now, _a voice in my head sighed. _You can't go back to the hotel, not right now. You might as well use that time to check up on your best friend. It would be wasteful to go into all that trouble to see her, and then just not bother._

I listened to that advice and stood up, using the wall as support for my shaken body. My light make-up running down my face in ruins, I stumbled out of the alley. The nearest phone booth was down the street and I headed to it. I dialled a number that I had memorised, along with an extra few numbers that made the phone untraceable.

"Hello?" her voice crackled through, intrigued by the unknown number that had somehow got hold of her emergency phone that only I knew about – she had bought it for me to get in contact with her if we were ever apart.

"Hey, Macey," I replied, but carried on quickly before she could say anything. It was always good to cover up your tracks, no matter how careful and secretive you think you are. "It's me, uh, Kayla McGregor, calling to say I'm all safe and good."

"Okay," she laughed, recognising my voice. She obviously saw through it, but was playing along with my improvised name. "Where are you? I haven't seen you since… um… the last party that my mom held."

"Yeah, I've been really busy with my ex-boyfriend," I said casually.

Macey burst into giggles. "Busy doing what?"

"Nothing," I tried to lie convincingly, but the memory of Zach shouting at me was raw and it came out more like a strangled cat.

Macey's voice went from laughing to serious in an instant. "Aw, honey, what happened? Was it another fight? And why do you care so much? I thought you hated him!"

"It's not something I'm proud about," I confessed.

"That's okay," Macey soothed. "We all make mistakes."

"Well, this one was huge," I struggled to hold in the tears in my eyes. "He didn't want me to do something, so I kissed him as a distraction and he got all mad at me and called me an uncaring, scheming bitch. He had good reason too."

"Don't blame yourself on that, okay?" Macey's voice was full of concern. "Whatever you wanted to do, you probably had a reason for wanting to do it. It's not _all _your fault."

"But I took advantage of the feelings he still has for me, and that isn't right." I sighed regretfully. "I'll talk to you more about this when I next see you. Right now, I want you to pass on a message to that geeky friend of yours."

"You mean Jonas?" Macey asked, and I could just imagine her eyebrows knitting together.

"Oh yeah, that's him. He's good at hacking and stuff, right? Can you ask him to hack into the security system of my daughter's friend's mom's house? I want to give her a surprise because I'm two blocks away from her and I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Sure," Macey grinned. "Tell her I said hi."

"I will," I promised, with my hand over the end call button.

"Oh and can I say one more thing, Kayla?"

"What is it?"

"If you don't tell me about your boyfriend" –

"Ex-boyfriend," I interrupted.

"Whatever," she replied. "If you don't tell me about your boyfriend within the next week, I will personally hunt you down and torture it out of you."

"Good for you, Macey," I laughed, but she couldn't see the tears running down my cheeks.

After that, I hung up, wiped my face clear once more and continued on my journey to the hospital.

**Catherine's POV**

How long had I stayed in this horrible cell? Time seemed endless here and it was doing my head in. At least I _seemed _to be perfectly calm when anyone came in. The Circle had been the ones to train me to be a professional at withholding information when being tortured… but then again, I had contributed many new torture techniques myself – I never thought my inventions would someday bite me right back in the ass. But here I was, lying in a cell I had once thrown other people into.

The door swung open. I looked up, and saw Joseph staring down at me coldly, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Catherine," he smiled, with calculating eyes. "How do you like your new accommodation? Is it comfy?"

"I don't want the small talk," I glared at him. "Just get the whole torture thing over and done with, please."

"I like the small talk," he replied with an emotionless smile. "I find that they generally make the prisoner more nervous."

I tilted my chin up defiantly. "I'm not scared of you, Joseph. Give me your worst."

He tutted. "My dear Catherine, you make it sound like I'm going to listen to what you say. I think I'll stay with the original plan. I think you know it all too well, seeing as you were the one who created it. It is my personal favourite, if I say so myself. Perhaps you remember it?"

I scowled, but stayed mute. I refused to give him any satisfaction.

"No?" he raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I'll enlighten you. The plan was to start off with a small lecture about how you'll start nice and easy, and how it will all go downhill from there. Torture sessions will get longer and crueller and much more painful for you. The gaps between each session will lengthen too, so you have time between each one to think about your options. And that's only the physical side of things.

"Then the second stage will come in – the mental tests. Your mind will be tried to its limit, through our exquisite stimulator. The hallucinations of your deepest fears will eat their way through your brain, until there's nothing left. You worst nightmares will come true in front of your eyes, or so you will think, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, we both know that only six people have got past this stage – one of whom is the father of your beloved Cameron.

"If you're strong enough to get past that level, next up is the emotional stage. Your mind and your body will already be weakened beyond belief and it will only take a small push to tip you over the edge. Anyone you have ever cared about will be brought back to flesh in front of you, but of course, our stimulator will make things more interesting.

"No one has ever got past that, but you were always prepared for the worst, weren't you, Catherine? You always had a back-up. So your interest in medicine and poison led you to the final stage. You created an anaesthetic to paralyze each part of the body and a cure to heal it. If we ever have to inject you with it, your veins will feel like they're on fire for one hour. Then it will suddenly stop. That body part is dead to you. We'll start with your feet, and move up the body. Last of all will be that wonderful brain of yours, but all through it, you'll know that you could just stop the pain with a few answers and we'll give you the antidote.

"And if you are resilient all the way until then, we will destroy the only functional part of your body – your heart. We will rip it out with this." He brandished a flashy silver dagger, Ioseph Cavan's original favourite, and tossed it in the air. He caught it and smiled at me cruelly.

I leaned back against the wall, raising my eyes to the heavens. "Joseph, please stop trying to intimidate me. I already know what my torture techniques are. You don't need to explain them to me."

He shrugged. "It shows that I do listen to your long, boring suggestions sometimes. Come with me."

He led the way and I followed him out of the meagre cell. The corridors, which were once my home, were now my prison. I knew where we were going. The Circle had three torture rooms, one small one, one big one and one for the people who _really _pissed Joseph off. Joseph's private torture room was where I was headed. He had kept the inside of that room highly classified. Nobody but his victims knew what was in there and people who were curious were too scared to try. Those who went in mysteriously disappeared.

There had been the rumours, of course. Many agents discussed how in there was a huge tank with a great white shark in it, although that sounded a bit much – even for Joseph. Others said that captives had ropes attached to their hands and feet, and they were stretched for answers, while Joseph did acupuncture on them in the worst places.

But no matter how outrageous the rumours were, no one could deny the distant screams they could hear if they walked past that room.

"Would you like to come in?" Joseph inserted his key in and twisted it with a jerk as a massive click echoed. He swung the door open and gentlemanly gestured for me to enter. Resisting the urge to gulp with fear, I strode in with my head held high.

**Cammie's POV**

The hospital's lights were much dimmer than usual, but I suspected that was all thanks to Jonas. He was probably the reason that all the camera lenses were shut too. There was some confusion at the reception desk and glancing at their screens, I could see why. Written across all the screens were the words _THIS IS FOR… _and then a picture of a worm with round glasses, reading a book that was three times its size.

They didn't notice as I ran up the stairs, silently thanking Jonas for everything he'd done. The route to Liz's ward was long, but I ran it within a minute and without detection. When I finally arrived at the right room, I took a huge long breath and opened her curtain.

She was as petite as ever, and still as beautiful too. Her shoulder-length blonde hair surrounded her head like a halo and her cheeks were rosy, almost buried beneath the hospital covers. She had her pillow hugged to her chest and her features were so innocent in her deep sleep.

"Liz," I breathed, rushing to her side. I took her hand in my own and just held it, feeling the strong wall I had built around myself crumble. For what felt like the millionth time tonight, the tears flowed freely down my cheeks and I squeezed her hand for dear life, though it probably didn't do much good.

"I'm so sorry, Liz," I sobbed, dismissing any thoughts about feeling stupid and talking to talk to myself. "I'm so sorry. I never should have done it. It was stupid and wrong, especially because you just wanted to help me out. I have no excuse for what I did. I'm a terrible best friend and I'm feeling so guilty about it."

Then an idea popped into my head, which would either have me jumping up in joy or rolling about in my own misery again. I said, "Squeeze my hand twice if you think that I'm not a bad friend."

No answer.

I mostly expected that to happen and I knew that I wasn't being fair to myself _or _her, but it was a way to torture my emotions more, so I did it. Asking her to make some sort of reaction was never going to make her suddenly wake up. It was a stupid idea, and it did not only disappoint me; it probably put a lot of pressure on Liz, who could probably hear me, too… unless she didn't want to squeeze my hand and actually thought I was a bad friend. I wouldn't blame her for thinking that too.

Besides, Jonas said that she only had a 22% chance of life. It might not even be her choice to come back. If she dies, I would be the one who stole that life from her.

"You can hate me if you want," I struggled to keep my tone level, and failed. "Just don't die out on everyone. Even if you can't fight death, fight it anyhow… for Jonas and Arianne, and Bex and Macey, and everyone else you love. I – they can't bear for you to go, Liz."

I touched her cheek. "I understand if you hate me. I totally understand if you want me to leave. Just…" I gave it another shot. "Squeeze twice if you don't hate me."

No answer, again, and I choked back a sob. "That's okay too… I guess I should go now. Goodbye, Liz."

I stood up to leave, my hand still wrapped around hers: Then I felt the tiniest squeeze. There it was again! I gasped in shock and grinned so broadly through my tears that my face muscles ached. I laugh escaped my lips and soon I was giggling and crying at the same time. She seemed to react to my hysterics with the small smile that appeared on her lips, even though it was probably killing her to do so.

"Liz!" I squealed, about to hug her. Then I realised that hugging her would probably crush her frail body, so I awkwardly sank back down into the seat next to the bed and carried on excitedly, "You did it, Liz! You made it! And you don't hate me! Oh Liz, this is amazing! You're going to recover and we're going to be best friends again and I'm going to finally forgive myself for what I did to you!"

"Well, I'm not." It was a voice that suddenly appeared at the curtain, high-pitched, cute and unforgiving. I turned in shock and saw Arianne standing there, glaring at me intensely in her hospital night-gown. I was speechless. I didn't know what to say to the girl who I barely knew, but I shot anyway.

"I… I…"

"Save the apologies." Her voice was cold. "You have nerve to visit my mother after what you did. You have even more nerve for thinking that she'll ever forgive you. Do you think after you shot her little girl and almost killed her that she will ever be your best friend again? She's already got a family and two best friends who would never desert her in the middle of a pregnancy like you did."

"Arianne…"

"She's already got everything she needs. You're only trouble, trouble that nobody should ever have to deal with. You don't deserve to have anyone in your life, let alone Mom. She's better off without you, Cameron. I just want my family back. And you're not part of it."

I withdrew my hand from Liz's, feeling anger and indignation bubbling within me… but knowing that somehow this girl was right.


	26. Chapter 26

**Liz's POV (In present tense – because she's just extra special)**

Footsteps approaching the bed. Probably that nurse with the terrible singing.

"Liz," an all too familiar voice whispers. But… but… it can't be…

She breaks into a sob and that's when I know. Cammie. I heard that same crying so many times, after the whole breakup drama. "I'm so sorry, Liz. I'm so sorry. I never should have done it. It was stupid and wrong, especially because you just wanted to help me out. I have no excuse for what I did. I'm a terrible best friend and I'm feeling so guilty about it."

_Don't be! You were just trying to protect yourself! _I scream, but my mouth refuses to move, despite how much I try to make it. I've got no control over my body and I suddenly get a panic attack – _What if my mind has to be stuck in this cage forever?!_

_Don't worry, Liz. Your body will return to your command when it's ready. _My reassurance techniques don't work.

It only gets worse when Cammie puts her hand in mine and says shakily, "Squeeze my hand twice if you think that I'm not a bad friend."

_What?!_ She can't ask me to do that! My body isn't ready for it! I can't squeeze once, let alone twice! I can't even twitch roll my eyes underneath my eyelids! She's – oh.

She didn't expect me to squeeze, and that's why she asked me to. She knows I wouldn't squeeze, and is somehow trying to prove that I hated her with that knowledge. _Oh, Cammie. Why are you so set on making yourself seem bad? Can't you just let me forgive you?_

"You can hate me if you want," she said, her voice breaking. "Just don't die out on everyone. Even if you can't fight death, fight it anyhow… for Jonas and Arianne, and Bex and Macey, and everyone else you love. I – they can't bear for you to go, Liz."

_I'm trying. I'm trying not to die, so hard._

I felt a warm finger on my cheek, touching it softly, gently. It's been so long since she and I came into contact and my brain is smiling, even if my mouth can't. She sighs. "I understand if you hate me. I totally understand if you want me to leave. Just…" She breathes deeply and encloses her hand around mine again. "Squeeze twice if you don't hate me."

_Not again, Cammie. You know I can't do it, but I'm trying. Please let me try. _I push all of my willpower and strength into that little action that could change both our lives, if I meant that much to her. All the emotion she poured into this visit I'm channelling into my fingers.

It's impossible.

_Keep trying, Liz. Don't give up._

"That's okay too…" Cammie's voice sounds so heartbroken that it's almost unbearable. "I guess I should go now. Goodbye, Liz."

_NO! _The chair next to the bed scrapes as she stands up.

With everything in me, I squeeze. Once. Twice. It's not strong at all, but almost all of my energy has left me. _That doesn't matter. What's important is: did she get the message?_

A second later, a gasp fills the air, and I can tell that Cammie's grinning. She hiccups, and I realise she's laughing and crying simultaneously. Just hearing her voice in happiness is enough to make me ignore my fatigue and use my newly acquired muscles again to move my mouth. In other words, I smile. Just a bit.

"Liz! You did it, Liz! You made it!" Her voice was a squeal and there was a small pause before she sank into the chair beside the bed again. "And you don't hate me! Oh Liz, this is amazing! You're going to recover and we're going to be best friends again and I'm going to finally forgive myself for what I did to you!"

_Finally! It's about time you forgave yourself!_

"Well, I'm not." I know that voice even more than I know Cammie's. Probably because she was one of the two people I love more than Cammie, Jonas and Arianne. It's a girl's voice. So it has to be my daughter.

_She just has to ruin the moment._

"I… I…" That's Cammie. Arianne must have _something _on her face at least. Cammie is almost _never _speechless, whether she is a killer or not. Although as a spy, she didn't always say much, she was always ready to say something when she wanted to. But _I… I…_? That is definitely hesitation.

"Save the apologies." _Is this my daughter? _I've never heard Arianne so hostile. "You have nerve to visit my mother after what you did. You have even more nerve for thinking that she'll ever forgive you. Do you think after you shot her little girl and almost killed her that she will ever be your best friend again? She's already got a family and two best friends who would never desert her in the middle of a pregnancy like you did."

_If she deserted me in the middle of my pregnancy, I did the same thing! I left her to suffer her depression in solitude, while she was pregnant with Morgan._

"Arianne…"

"She's already got everything she needs. You're only trouble, trouble that nobody should ever have to deal with. You don't deserve to have anyone in your life, let alone Mom. She's better off without you, Cameron. I just want my family back. And you're not part of it."

There is a long tense silence. It's killing me.

_Cammie, don't listen to her! I love her, but she doesn't understand! I wouldn't walk into a random apartment in New York (with my only backup twenty minutes behind me) for just _anyone_! Arianne hasn't experienced Gallagher friendship yet. She'll know what it's like one day. She'll have a friend to die for, too._

_You may be trouble, but you will _always _be a part of my family._

I feel Cammie's hand withdraw itself from mine, and knew that Cammie had been won over by Arianne's argument. _No, no, NO! I can't lose her again, so soon after getting her back!_

"You're right," I hear Cammie say, in a small defeated voice. "I don't deserve to be here, do I?"

"You don't," Arianne agreed. "Now get out."

_Oh Arianne. What have you done?_

**04:12 – the same night**

**Zach's POV**

The door opened and swung back closed. Putting down the book I was reading, I glared as I looked up, ready for confrontation with the Ice Princess.

Instead, I got a drunk, laughing woman, struggling to keep herself upright. For a moment, I didn't even recognise her as Cammie, before it clicked. I examined her with horror. She had purchased ridiculously tall stiletto heels at some point in the night and had broken one of them at another point. Her mascara had dried in streams down her face, like she had been crying. Her clothes (now a slutty dress that barely covered her butt) were in tatters.

And most notably, her knuckles were bloodied. It looked the blood wasn't hers, but it was still shocking enough. Cammie, who was usually so calm and composed, had got into a fight. It didn't even look like she had been ambushed by the Circle, judging from the fact that she was drunk and still alive. It was probably some dodgy pub fight over gambling money.

Still bitter over what happened last night, I didn't really care how much she gambled or what she spent her night doing… unless she was in bed with someone, maybe. It wasn't right, what she did to me. Even though she had been playing me like I had played her, I hadn't purposefully hurt her. On the other hand, she pretty much looked me in the eye and grinned as she brought a dagger into my heart.

Beer splashed onto the carpet as she clutched a bottle and said, "Hey, handsome! Can you believe it? The doormen wouldn't let me in! It was okay though – nothing my fists can't handle!"

My jaw dropped, not in shock that she could take them on, but in shock that she did it in the first place. That was like giving the Circle our location on a gold platter.

"Cammie, don't tell me you just took on the doormen on the street with cameras watching," I said slowly and seriously.

She laughed a flirtatious giggle. "I'm not stupid. Of course I covered up. I injected them with syringes that made them really slow and confused. I convinced them to follow me into an alley. _Then _I knocked them out. They'll be fine in a few days."

"Why would you harm innocent people for no reason?" I spluttered.

She laughed again, this time mockingly – like she couldn't believe I was so stupid. "Zach, they told me that they don't allow people with dirty clothing into the hotel. It was so insulting! I _just _bought them, you know. And besides, I kill people every day."

I ignored the last comment. "Where did you get the clothes from? All the shops are closed."

"That's the point," she shrugged. "I took them. It's good that we'll be gone tomorrow, because there'll be some _very_ angry shop owners. I broke a lot of glass."

"Cammie, you're _really _drunk, aren't you?"

"And you're _really _hot." She smiled, showing all her teeth. "I've missed you over the years."

"Really?" I drawled sarcastically, trying to ignore my heart hammering in my chest. _She hurt me, she hurt me, she hurt me, _I told myself.

"No I didn't miss you at all," she grinned wider. "But you are hot though. I wasn't joking about that."

"You have no right to call me that. We were in that awkward no-speaking stage after an argument. You kissed me just to get me off my guard, remember?"

"And I really don't care," she replied nonchalantly. "I kissed you and even though it wasn't for the right reasons, at least I did it. We never would've got anywhere as a couple otherwise."

I bristled with anger. Drunk or not, she couldn't say that. "Right, that's it. Cammie, you have to snap out of it."

"No, I think I like it," she said 'innocently'. Suddenly, she jumped onto the bed and bounced up and down. "Nothing's holding me back! No stupid injection, no therapy; I can feel emotions! I'm me again! I'm _free!_"

"Cammie, get down," I ordered. "Get down, right now!"

She fell onto her butt and carried on bouncing at the lower level. "Don't you like me with emotions, Zach? It's _so _much better than being Miss Strict-and-Composed!"

"Not like this," I replied through gritted teeth.

Working quickly, I grabbed a pair of handcuffs and snapped around her wrists – which she responded to with a quick "hey!" I brought out another pair, cuffed her feet and removed those horrible heels. Due to her drunken slowness, I was also able to drag her to the bedpost and tie her to it with rope.

Then I slapped her. "Clear out your head. Because the last time one of us was drunk, you walked in on me cheating on you."

There, I hadn't actually known for sure if she ever got dunk after the breakup, but I knew I certainly hadn't – scarred for life by what I had done the last time; and the Killer Chameleon didn't seem like the sort of person to waste her life away at a bar. But judging by the way Cammie stayed silent with a shocked expression on her face, I guessed I was right.

"Now sit there until you're sober and really tired. Or go to sleep and wake up, sober with a hangover. I don't really care which one."

Cammie just nodded, wide-eyed. Then she blinked, exhausted, and her eyes fluttered closed. Gradually, her breathes became deeper and slower as she fell into dreams. Quietly, I brought the duvet up to her chin and sighed.

**6:00 – The Same Morning**

**Morgan's POV**

"Bex," I whispered, shaking her gently awake. "Bex, wake up."

"Not now, Grant," she groaned, slapping my arm. Her eyes were left closed. "I'm _not _a morning person. Not in the mood for any night-time activities… I thought we went over this…"

I laughed awkwardly. "I'm not… ahem… I'm not Grant. I'm Morgan here."

Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up. When she focused on me, she blushed deeply and mumbled, "Please tell me that you're innocent enough to not know what I was talking about."

"Yeah, thanks to you, I'm well educated in dirty talk now," I rolled my eyes. "You go through this with Grant _every morning_?"

Bex coloured more. "Maybe…"

"You guys are so gross!" I squealed.

She shrugged. "You get used to it. Anyway, why did you wake me up?"

"Well I woke up early," I began, "but I couldn't be bothered to get up. So I lay in bed, just thinking. I was wondering what would happen if the Circle were to ambush us, right now. You'd be doing your crazy stunts and taking them all down, but I'd just be a sitting duck, ready for anyone to bundle into a bag."

"You could scream," Bex suggested, rubbing the morning tiredness from her eyes. "And then I'd run right for you."

"But that would give your opponents the chance to take you down," I replied.

She countered, "What happens to me doesn't matter. You're the important one here. As long as you're safe…"

"I wouldn't be safe if you got taken down by the Circle though," I pointed out. "So I was wondering if you could teach me some moves."

She laughed. "Not to burst your bubble or anything, Morgan, but I sincerely doubt that you could learn enough in the time we have to take down more than one agent at a time – and that's if you're lucky."

"But you could teach me enough to hold them off until you finish your opponent and come to save me, right?" I asked hopefully.

"I guess so," Bex smiled and ruffled my hair. "I'm proud of you, kid. It's only been a few weeks since you joined the spy world and you're already starting to think like your mother did… before she became a Circle member, of course."

"Thanks…I smiled back. "At least, I think I should thank you. Are you saying I will become a Circle member?"

"Do you really think I'd be proud of anyone who I think will be a Circle member?" she laughed. Then she pulled me into a hug. "Let's get started then."

**Cammie's POV**

I woke up and a second later followed a horrible ache in my head. I winced and gasped.

"So you're awake." Zach didn't look up from the newspaper he was reading. "And I'm guessing you're sober."

"W-what happened?" I mumbled, clutching my head. "Why was I drunk?"

Again, he spoke without looking up. "I don't know. I was going to ask you the same question. It wasn't like you were going to tell me anything while you were drunk."

I thought hard, trying to ignore the pounding in my head… What happened last night? The answer came back to me in a huge flood of memories.

_Our lips crashed together in a fiery collision of passion._

"_You manipulated me! You are an uncaring, scheming little bitch! You're a bitch!"_

"_Please, just leave, Cammie."_

_The tiniest squeeze. There it was again!_

"_I just want my family back. And you're not part of it."_

_Wiping tears away – yet again – and a pub glows as it catches my eye. I stop. I turn. I walk towards the pub with only one purpose: Get drunk._

_Buzzing in my ears as the drink consumes me. Laughing fills the room. Cards thrown down. Casino tokens slid across the table. Money reluctantly given to me._

_My terrible singing as I walk down a street. See a slutty dress. Fire gunshots at the window. Destroy cameras. Glass shatters. Take the dress and a few more accessories._

_Look down the street, glass all over the road and man trying to call police. Shrug, toss hair over shoulder and strut away. Tottering in stilettos, snapping one heel and fall into an alley._

_Sink down the wall. Ignore the dirt on floor. Sob with head in hands._

_Too many mistakes. Too many errors. Too many problems._

_My fault._

_Need to forget._

_More drinking._

_More gambling._

_No money._

"_Please."_

"_No. You're too dirty, wearing too little."_

"_But…"_

"_No. I'm sorry. I can't let you inside."_

_Stab._

_Needle._

"_W… where are… w… we… going…?"_

_Punch._

_Kick._

"_Help me! Some crazy woman has beaten up my friend!"_

_Punch._

_Kick._

_Fall._

"_You're really drunk, aren't you?"_

"_You're really hot."_

"_You kissed me just to get me off my guard, remember?"_

"_I really don't care."_

"_Snap out of it."_

"_No, I like it. I'm _free!_"_

"_Clear out your head. Because the last time one of us was drunk, you walked in on me cheating on you."_


	27. Chapter 27

**Hi everyone,**

**Guess what?! We've hit 400 REVIEWS! Thank you so much, guys. To celebrate, I've written an extra long chapter!**

**Shout-outs to **cheeky-monkey-hehe**, **SlimSwiftHZ**, ** , BunnySwag101, zammiefax4ever, CammieandZach **and **Bria **for your great story ideas. I've tried to bring all of your ideas together, because it's always great to hear what you guys want to happen. And sorry if I made any changes to your ideas that you don't really like. Also, thank you **00countrygrlBex, TotallyRemixed1 **and **Kelsey **because even though you didn't give ideas, your reviews were really motivating. **

**See you soon… J**

**Jonas' POV**

Ugh. What was that horrible noise? Oh. My phone. Who was calling so early in the morning?

I picked it up and checked the caller ID, but it was unknown and I couldn't be bothered to trace the call. Then I realised that my phone said it was 06.10 already. I should have already been awake. I guess now I was facing the consequences of illegally overriding the security system of a hospital.

"Hello?" I said blearily into the phone, after I answered the call.

A voice I knew all too well was speaking. "Hi Dad. I'm awake."

"Arianne?" I asked in amazement, immediately standing to my feet. I shoved my glasses onto my nose, suddenly awake.

"Yes!" she laughed. "And you call yourself my father! Really, it's quite shameful!"

I breathed, "Arianne, thank God you're alive. I was scared that my calculations of your chance of survival would prove not to matter and you'd die. But you haven't, you amazing fighter! How's your mother? Did Cammie reach her?"

Arianne's voice was now strangely cold. "Not you too! Everything's always Cammie, Cammie, Cammie. Can't you see that it was this… this killer who put us both in hospital in the first place?!"

"She was just trying to protect herself and her daughter." I was protecting Cammie again. After all my differences with Zach, I automatically took Cammie's side in everything. Besides, we've seemed to have grown much closer since her return, especially since she had to ask me for technical help now instead of Liz.

"But we were just trying to help her!" Arianne argued passionately. "And she repaid us by sending Mom and me into comas that we could have died in! If you ask me, we should just hand her over to the CIA and let her face her crimes."

"Arianne!" I reprimanded. "She's family. If someone drugged me into killing people, would you hand me over?"

"That's different. You're real family. She ditched you for a life as a killer. And now you're taking her side over your own daughter's. Everyone takes her side, like she's the Goddamn British Queen or something. She doesn't deserve it. She doesn't even deserve her daughter. I don't care how kickass she is. I hate her. Whatever you think of her – it's all bullshit. She's just manipulating everyone."

"Language, Ari," I reminded her. "Look, Cammie's gone through a hard time. And it will only get worse when the guilt hits her" –

"She deserves it" –

I butted into her talking; not wanting to listen to another speech about how my ten year old daughter thinks my friend is 'bullshit'. "I'm talking here! And I'm just saying: lay off, okay? At least until I drive up to the hospital in New York to get you discharged. I'll repeat my earlier question. How's your mother?"

"She's responsive."

I let out a long breath that I didn't even know I was holding. "When did she start responding? When Cammie was there?"

"No!" she yelled, evidently annoyed at Cammie's mention. Her response was followed by some background voice telling her to be quiet.

"Sorry," I apologised and tried again. "When did she start responding?"

Arianne replied, "She squeezed my hand when I visited earlier in the morning."

I resisted the urge to ask if Arianne saw Cammie and instead took the safer route. "Alright darling. I'm driving up to you ASAP."

**Cammie's POV**

"I was drunk," I told myself experimentally. I was trying to come to terms with the horrifying fact that I got drunk. "I was drunk! I was actually drunk. I was drunk!"

"I get it," Zach said in a bored tone. "You were drunk."

I spun around to face him and exclaimed, "I'm never drunk! It takes a _lot _of drink to get me drunk and I never drink more than one glass!"

"Neither do I," Zach still sounded bored, like I wasn't worth talking to.

"You don't get it, do you? Being drunk is huge. I can't… I mean… _Nobody _can know that I was drunk… It would be the end of me."

"And why's that?" Zach asked casually, sipping his glass of lemonade. His eyes never left the page of newspaper.

"It's my reputation! Nobody can know that _the _Killer Chameleon got drunk! It's… telling them that I've got emotions again… that I've finally cracked under all the pressure!"

Here, he brought his eyes to mine. "And have you cracked under all the pressure?"

"Yes!" I cried, sobbing into my hands. "First I upset you, then there was the whole disaster with Liz and Arianne, and then I went on that crazy rampage through town! I can't handle it! I slipped up with you and Liz, but then I couldn't get back on track afterwards. This… this is wrong! And it's all because of my emotions!"

Zach frowned. "Emotions aren't a bad thing, Cammie."

"Yes, they are! I can't deal with them… I just can't! It's too hard! You have no idea…"

Zach looked torn between comforting me and staying angry for the way I manipulated him. In the end, he sighed and said (none too comfortingly), "Why don't you just talk me through what happened after I sent you out of the room?"

Watching his face closely for any changes in expression, I recalled what happened last night – how I spent over one hour sobbing in a cold, dark alley; how Arianne screamed at me to get away from her mother; how I spent the rest of the night gambling away my money and trashing shops. I saw how Zach's face went from indifferent to sympathetic to slightly disturbed.

After I finished speaking, there was a long, tense silence, where neither of us spoke a word. He didn't know what to say. And again, he didn't know which attitude to confront me in. In the end, he settled for quick-to-get-it-over-and-done-with, and it didn't help that his words were as sharp as the edge of a knife.

"DoyouthinkthattheCirclemighthaveseenyousmkashings hopwindows?" he asked.

I scowled. "You don't beat around the bush, do you? And the answer is no. Although I was miserable and suicide had crossed my mind a couple of times, I didn't want to wish a death sentence on your head. I was careful, even if I was completely drunk. My Circle training kicked in."

"Alright," he eyed me warily. "I'm going to trust you on that."

I beamed at him, knowing that I probably looked incredibly hormonal. Trust is the first step towards friendship… and even being friend-zoned is better than nothing. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and when I kept staring into his eyes, he lowered his gaze with a slight pink blush. Whoever thought I'd be the one to have Zachary Goode, biggest player in the world, blushing. It was strangely comforting to know he still had feelings for me.

"Why are you grinning at me like that?" He gave a nervous chuckle. "It's getting scary…"

I ignored the comment about it being freaky and smiled even wider. "I'm just happy that you trust me!"

"No, I don't," he growled instinctively, but remembering how broken I was right now, he backtracked quickly. "I don't trust you on _everything_ – because you're a killer and everything. I mean, I'm not saying that all killers are bad. As in, you're one of the not so bad killers. No, I meant to say…" He sighed, like he was shaking off his inability to say the right thing. "The Killer Chameleon doesn't trust anybody, so I don't know what to think of her."

"Hey!" I exclaimed in defence. "I _do _trust people." He arched one eyebrow, as though he was questioning my statement, so I continued slowly, "I trust… uh… well, I trust the pizza guy to be on time!"

"The pizza guy?" he repeated, setting down the newspaper. "Everybody trusts the pizza guy. It's just… _sinful _to suspect him of arriving late. When do you order pizza anyway? I mean, I'd get freaked out if someone called me up and said, _'Hi, can I order fifty large pizzas? We're having a serial killer party!' _or _'Hi, can you bring twenty pizzas to Blood Headquarters on Murder Street?'_"

I protested. "It was for Morgan. I mean, you can't be an American without eating pizza. 94% of us eat it regularly and I am _not _bringing up my kid to be the extra 6%."

"Why not?" Zach asked innocently. "I bet you the 6% who don't eat pizza are super slim models on catwalks, Tom Hanks."

"Tom Hanks?"

He explained, "He's the most trustworthy person in America, apparently."

"Really?" I was genuinely interested. "That just makes him extra suspicious."

"See what I mean? You have a real trust problem. I suggest group therapy, because your Dr Steve sessions evidently aren't working," he said, fake seriously. I scowled and he held both hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry. Too soon for therapy jokes?"

"Hey, the only reason I was even stuck in that agency was because of you," I muttered broodingly.

The mood of the room changed from dry laughter to serious in a second.

His face changed so quickly that it was like I flipped a switch. Now he looked apologetic, his mouth slightly open like he wasn't sure what to say. I pushed on relentlessly, "Was what you said last night true? Or did you just say that to get me to shut up? Were you drunk that night? And have you really never consumed the deadly drink since?"

"Yes, no, yes and yes." His voice was now so hushed that even I struggled to hear him.

My eyes were wide as I processed this life-changing information. Perhaps… perhaps if I had listened to him that night or in the next month of voicemails that he left on my phone… It was all a huge misunderstanding. Of course, I hadn't fully forgiven him yet; drunk or not, he had still cheated on me and broke my heart. But now that I knew this, there was the possibility that I might love him again. I wasn't driven by hate anymore.

In the same muted voice, he whispered, "Cammie, this might sound like a bunch of high-school-jerk-trying-to-get-back-together-with- his-ex bullshit, but with your training, you could probably tell my lies. And I'm not lying when I say that I never meant to hurt you. Even in our high-school years, I knew we had something special. I never wanted to break that."

I hated his use of the term 'had'. As in we _had _something special, but we don't anymore. Instead of saying anything though, I just stayed silent as he stood up from his armchair and crouched next to me (although the handcuffs on my hands and feet were gone, I was still tied to the bedpost). His face moved nearer to mine until it was so close that if I tilted my head upwards, our lips would be touching. Every breath he took made my own breath hitch at our intimacy; every breath he let out touched my cheeks like a light summer breeze. His green eyes explored my blue ones like he was searching for the Cammie he loved and knew so well.

A part of me wanted to scream out: _I'm here, Zach! I've been stuck inside this horrible killer machine for so long! I'm right here!_

I swallowed, setting my jaw firmly, and tried to dismiss those thoughts.

_Why are you fighting it? Why can't you just accept the fact that you and him are meant to be? _It was the same voice in my head, the same laughing voice that I used to own, rather than the cold, flat one I did now.

"Cammie… Cammie," he whispered my name over and over like it was a blessing, cupping my cheek in his hand so hesitantly and gently, like he thought I was fragile as a petal floating in the wing. "Cammie, I know you more than anyone else does. Or at least, I know the old you. And that's how I know that my Cammie still in there somewhere, fighting this shell you've made to protect yourself from having your heart crushed again. To that Cammie, I'm going to say: Don't give up. Because one day, you'll be back." He paused. "And I also want to say… I love you. Remember that."

I didn't say anything. Even if I did, I wouldn't know what to say to someone who had professed their love to a person that I was unsure existed anymore.

"Say something, Gallagher Girl." It seemed like he was taking my silence badly. "Say something, 'cause not knowing what you're thinking is worse than anything you could say."

I struggled for words, but chose not to speak about the old me. It was painful to think that I had destroyed my whole promising life as a spy because Zach drank too much alcohol. "Why were you drunk in the first place?"

He looked down, embarrassed, and his hand left my face as he turned away. "It's a stupid excuse for being drunk."

"Tell me. I want to know."

"You going on that Cuba mission," he explained, "made me go crazy. It was the most dangerous mission any of us had gone on yet and I didn't think you'd come out alive. Liz calculated that the chance of an _average _Gallagher girl surviving it was 30%, and that wasn't counting the fact that you had next to no backup. 30% with no backup was too little for me, even though you're no average Gallagher girl. I should have had faith in you and your talents. I shouldn't have worried about you."

Coaxing his face into looking at me again, I soothed, "Don't say that. Your worrying shows how much you care, Zach. Your worrying is by no means a bad trait of yours."

He smiled weakly. "At least there's one thing that hasn't changed about you. You push your own problems to the back of your mind when someone else has one. You're not completely selfless, but your loyalty to friends is invaluable."

When I didn't say anything, he said, "Anyway, I hated all of your missions, Cammie. I dreaded every moment you were away from me. And I don't think you knew, but every time you were gone, I was a complete mess. Every time you went, I spent time at the bar and when you came back, I'd wash myself clean with bottles of soap and I'd vow to myself not to go back to the drink again. Every time, I failed that vow. Grant, Jonas and the others tried to help me, but I pushed them away and made them swear not to tell you how lost I was.

"But this Cuba mission was the worst." He closed his eyes in shame. "You were constantly on my mind and I didn't go anywhere except for work, seeing as I was trying to keep the promise of not drinking. Sleep was full of nightmares and being awake was just as bad. There was no escape.

"Then Grant dragged me to a bar and told me to drink some alcohol, just to lose myself for one night. I think he was hoping that at some point during my drunkenness, I would realise there was something positive about the whole situation and I'd heal. But he didn't think that alcohol would be my solace. Except before, I'd hated alcohol even while I was addicted; this time, I didn't want anything but you and more beer. This time, I had driven myself over the edge of control.

"For the next two weeks, I reeked of beer and wine, while everyone tried to talk me out of it. Grant and Macey gave me relationship reassurance advice, Liz and Jonas gave me some figures and facts that they thought would help, and Bex beat the crap out of me while she yelled at me that my drinking would drive me to do something I'd regret one day. And her words came to be true. You know how."

I was in shock. I had never thought of Zach as the weak one. To me, he had always been the one in control. All his decisions had been his. He held all the cards while everyone else followed. He was the last person I expected to be lost in drink. And it happened every time I left for a mission? I never thought I had such an effect on him. To think the shopping trips, pizza and ice cream (that I used as my own therapy when Zach was gone) were bad!

"Zach, I never realised…" I said hesitantly. "Why did you never tell me? I would have understood."

Snapping out of the past, his eyes focused on mine once more as he said, "Of course you would have understood. But I didn't want you to know that I wasn't the type of guy you deserved, that I wasn't the perfect match for you. Even the most sensitive guy in the world wouldn't have been enough for you."

I laughed sadly. "You do know that I was never perfect, right? I've never been."

"You were to me," he sounded faraway… almost like he reflecting on a beautiful dream he once had. He hurriedly shook his head, like he was brushing off his dreams. "Do you know what made your mission even worse? Do you remember where we were before you got that call from the Director?"

I nodded, smiling at the memory as my eyes welled up with tears. "You brought me to that beautiful restaurant with the romantic love theme."

"We were," he agreed and took in a deep breath. "That restaurant isn't love themed all the time. It was just that night."

"But…" I trailed off as my lips parted in surprise.

He smiled faintly. "It was for you, Cammie. And those other people in the restaurant? They were our friends in disguise. The couple in the table next to ours? Liz and Jonas. The waiter? Macey. Let me just say, she spent a _long time _complaining about how horrible the uniform was. And the special chef of the evening? Chef Louis, who travelled down especially for us."

I frowned in confusion. "Why was everyone gathered there?"

"It was the day I was supposed to propose that night." He brought something out of his pocket. It was a small box, but I already knew what was inside it. Then he opened it and I gasped. My eyes were drawn to it like a moth to fire and I couldn't look away. Sitting on a cushion of plush red velvet was a beautiful platinum engagement ring, traced all over with strings of gold – so thin that I could have missed them, had I not been trained. And in the middle of the ring was a large diamond surrounded by swirls of emerald and sapphire.

In a hushed voice, like speaking loud would ruin the beauty, I whispered, "It's the most stunning ring I have ever seen."

"I know," he replied, just as softly. "As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one I had to get, no matter how expensive it was. The sapphire reminded me of your eyes, you know."

"And your eyes look exactly like that emerald," I replied.

"That's why I chose it. Both of us are in this ring. I suppose this signifies our relationship," he smiled wryly. He shut the box with a snap, making me jump in surprise. Then he said, "I guess there's no purpose of having it now. But I still carry it around in my pocket. Now it's like my lucky charm. And over the years, I pulled it out to remember everything about you."

Brought back to reality, I looked to his eyes and remembered what we were talking about before I saw the ring. "Wait a second, you were going to propose? Oh my God, Zach. I couldn't… I mean, I would be so overwhelmed. We were _nineteen. _Isn't that a bit early for marriage?"

"We wouldn't have actually said 'I do' until the actual wedding, which was supposed to be one year later. So we'd be twenty," Zach replied, looking disappointed at my reaction. "Besides, we were young, but we were also spies. Spies as skilled as us often have an earlier death than most, because we do the deadliest missions and have the deadliest enemies. I didn't want to marry at, say, thirty and only a few blissful years together."

Sensing that, I said softer, "I said that I would be bewildered that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, not that I wouldn't say 'yes'. I loved you more powerfully than anything, Zach. I would've walked around the world if you said it was the only way for us to be together."

He seemed to be blinking away tears, but he stood up before I could be sure. He untied the ropes around my waist and said hesitantly, "There's one more thing I have to tell you."

"Go ahead," I mumbled, rubbing my stomach gingerly where the rope had dug in.

"When I was with Tina" – I stiffened, but with his eyes closed, he didn't seem to notice – "I didn't think it was her. I was hallucinating. I wanted you so much that when she approached me, I must have willed her to be you. And then I forced myself to believe that she was you and I was having sex with you, not her. For me, you being back, safe, was like an amazing dream that I wanted to come true. So when I thought Tina was you, it was like that dream had come true after all."

I swallowed hard and tried not to sound hurt when I said, "So having Tina in bed with you was an 'amazing dream'?"

"That's not what I meant," Zach said, his eyes widening as he realised what he just said.

I pretended to smile. "It's okay. I understand."

I did understand. But I didn't believe it. He had told me about how he was drunk, and that was believable. Perhaps he actually was at the time. However, claiming that he thought Tina was me took it a _bit _too far. Drinking could only make a person hallucinate if they were on drugs at the same time. Someone could have slipped some into his drink, but that was unlikely. He looked like the type of badass guy that most people would back away from, not a weak-looking girl who rapists would target.

I wasn't incredibly stupid. Even without Liz or Jonas, I could calculate that the chances of hallucinations were at 0.1%. And now that I had established that the hallucinations were lies, how could I be sure that that he was drunk? How did I know that he was working with Catherine on getting me out of here? How did I know that he still loved me? How did I know he wasn't manipulating me right now? How did I know he was telling the truth in anything? How could I trust a man who could have told me one lie or thousands?

This went again everything I had achieved in the past couple of days. Everything I had learnt was unravelling against itself. Every bud of feeling that had sprouted was now withering.

But worse than the anger and frustration that I felt towards Zach was the disappointment and the inevitable feeling of betrayal. Once I had finally started to trust him, I learnt that everything might have been a fake show put on to get under my skin. And now I learnt that, I'd have to go back to not trusting anyone.

The thing is, though… I don't _want _to let go of the feelings that I had finally started to feel again. I didn't want to break the new bond I had with Macey and Jonas. I didn't want to go back to choosing work over Morgan.

This was unfair. Life was unfair. After everythingI had been through, _this _was what I got? Sure, I deserved the loneliness and emotionless that came with being a killer. But the people I would kill in the future didn't deserve this.

"Cammie, are you okay?" Zach asked, looking concerned.

_And to think I was fooled by this face again, _I thought bitterly. _Mess with me once? Fine. Mess with me twice? You're in for it now, Goode._

So out loud, I played along with it, just smiling and saying, "It's a lot to process, you know. All this time, I thought you were to blame for everything. But really, it was only a result of you being overprotective of me."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I shouldn't have got drunk though. I should have stopped and listened to what everyone around me was saying."

"That's okay," I soothed, at the same time as I was internally cringing about the fact that I was pretending to care for him. "It's over now. I believe you."

He looked into my eyes. "Thank you, Cammie."

"You're welcome," I replied. He didn't see that my fingers were crossed.


	28. Chapter 28

**Hi everyone. I know you're all aggravated. 27 chapters in and she **_**still **_**doesn't trust Zach. But I **_**promise **_**you, that was the last time. She won't trust him and then not trust him ever again. We just have to pass through the stage where she doesn't trust him at all. Patience, grasshoppers! The big finale is coming soon! Along with Zammie!**

**And I know some of you are so angry with Cammie that you don't think she deserves to be with Zach. But come on, give her a chance. For eleven years, she's only survived by trusting **_**no one. **_**It would be hard for her to change ways like this. And scientifically, it's next to impossible to hallucinate **_**only **_**on alcohol – drugs have to be a key part in it. So don't blame Cammie. Yes, she's hormonal. Yes, she changes sides easily. Yes, she should have known better. But she didn't. Because she's confused and doesn't know who to trust.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. Read and enjoy! See you soon… J**

**Morgan's POV**

I placed my hands on my knees, hunching over while I panted heavily. My leg muscles were killing me. It was so _tiring. _I heard the scratching of tyres on dry rock as Bex began reversing the car. The blare of a horn sounded right in my ear and I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore it.

"Hey!" Bex's voice yelled at me from inside the car. "Why did you stop running?!"

In short breaths, I groaned, "I'm tired, okay? How can I keep up with a car? I'm only ten years old!"

"Tell that to the armed killers when they chasing you in their cars!" Her voice rang over the whirring of the car's engine. "Come on, you wanted to learn how to fight. I'm teaching you that."

"No you're not. You're teaching me how to run."

She shook her head. "Right now, let's just say running is a part of fighting. Because running will give you the biggest chance of staying alive."

"Can't we take a break?" I whined.

Her tough love personality faltered as she smiled. "Oh, alright then. Get in the car."

Sighing with relief, I followed her instruction.

**Cammie's POV**

"Shouldn't we be travelling to Boston by now?" I asked without eye contact, fearing that he might suspect something if I looked at him straight on.

Zach replied, "Our flight was delayed a few more hours. Are you okay with that?"

"I'm fine," I said. I think he expected a smile, so I gave him one. Even though it didn't mean anything to me.

"Jonas and Macey are coming today on one of the CIA's private helicopters. Jonas was really excited about Liz's responses – although he said that Arianne claims to be the one who Liz first responded to, not you. And Macey wants to visit us, because she said you and her had an unfinished conversation on the phone," Zach filled me in, after a moment of silence. "I didn't want her to at first, but she promised she'd be in disguise. She said Jonas might find some time to visit with her too."

I smiled and for the first time today, it was genuine. Macey and Jonas would do me good. I felt like those two (and Liz) were the only people I was sure I could fully depend on. There was something about Macey's brutal honesty and Jonas' geeky truth that made me smile every time I thought of them.

Maybe Macey's relationship advice would change my mind, again. And Jonas' facts and figures would give me something to fall back on. Because no matter how much I was sure I didn't believe Zach, I was still hopeful that maybe I was wrong.

"So I was thinking," Zach continued, "that maybe today could be a lazy day. We could just lie around in this suite."

"Sure," I smiled.

**Liz's POV**

Arianne, despite what she had said to Cammie, was really supportive of me in the rest of the day so far. She refused to leave my bedside, although the hospital was insisting that she should go back to her own ward. She was adamant that she'd be here to witness my awakening. It was quite sweet, really.

And my status? Well, the life was starting to seep back into my body, whether it was in the small twitch of my eyebrow or the tingling sensation in a toe. It wasn't much. I hadn't woken up yet. But I knew I was coming back really soon.

The pain in my stomach was still burning, like a never-ending ache. In fact, if Cammie hadn't visited me and if Arianne wasn't constantly beside me, I might have given up. At one point, I remember how I was thinking that death would be simpler than fighting for my life.

But then I thought of Jonas and Arianne, how our small family would fall apart without me. I thought of Bex and Macey, who'd have no Bookworm to turn to. I thought of Grant, Zach and Nick, and how I'd never hear their light teasing. I thought of Cammie and the horrible guilt I'd be laying on her if I gave up.

There seemed to be some commotion at the door, and I tried to listen harder. It was the nurse, directing somebody into my room, and two pairs of footsteps. Who were they?

Luckily, Arianne answered my question for me. "Dad? Macey? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," Macey drawled. "What, does it look like I'm here to prance around naked? I know I'm stunningly attractive, but I am _not _giving some old pervert the view of my goodies. Not even for charity."

Arianne giggled at the 'lack of propriety' and my mouth twitched up into a smile. It was so like Macey to talk about nudity and perverts in front of my ten year old daughter, who couldn't even say the word 'egg' without giggling like it was some hilarious secret.

"Anyway, how's our Sleeping Beauty?" she asked. "Hey, maybe Jonas should kiss her. Oh wait, he can't because she's got tubes in her nose."

"Don't make coma jokes," Jonas scolded. "Some people die in them." He drew a chair to the bed and took my hand. "Liz, how are you? Squeeze if you can hear me."

Before I could, Macey commented, "For God's sake, Jonas. She was grinning when I commented about my body. Of course she can hear you."

"I was just checking," Jonas protested.

Macey sighed. "Yeah, I know. No offence, Liz, but I find it really awkward to talk to people who can't talk back. Even though I can go on for ages. I just don't feel like I'm heard if I get no response. So I'm going to make my visit really quick, okay? Besides, I promised Zach I'd visit him and Cammie before they disappear to God knows where and their flight is in only six hours and they still have to travel to Boston."

Arianne groaned.

"What?" Macey asked. "Is there something wrong with Cammie?"

"She hates Cammie," Jonas explained. "She just doesn't understand who Cammie is to us."

Arianne whined, "Then explain it to me! Who is she to you?"

"A friend," Jonas said calmly, though I could tell that this conversation was spiralling into an argument. "She's a friend to me. She's a friend to all of us. And there seems to be some sort of Gallagher girl code or something that even I don't understand."

"I'll explain," Macey suggested.

"No, I will." It wasn't either Macey or Jonas. It was me. I hated arguments – I was a peacemaker through and through. And I guess this gave me the final push to waking up. Mind you, my voice wasn't really that nice to listen to. It was gravelly and croaky, like I hadn't had water in years.

"Liz, you're awake!" Jonas cried in amazement.

I slowly opened my eyes. The light of the room struck my eyes painfully. After that dark pit of black nothing that I had to see ever since I entered my coma, light was burning.

"I am," I said. "And thank you for visiting. But I know that you've got to see Cammie, so go. You can come back later."

Macey smiled gratefully. "Thanks Liz."

"Yeah," Jonas agreed, though he looked torn between staying and going. "You don't know how much closer Cammie and I have got since her return."

"That's good," I smiled, even though it made my cheek ache. "Now go, before I get someone to throw you out."

With a small smile, Macey stood up and left the room. Jonas planted a kiss on my forehead and followed her out.

"Arianne, pull your chair closer," I instructed.

She did so. "Now, can you explain why you've forgiven Cammie so easily? How did you get so close that you'll forgive her even though eleven years could have changed her completely?"

"Alright," I agreed. "It all started back on the first day at Gallagher when I saw a girl climbing out of a tunnel during orientation…"

**Cammie's POV**

"Macey?" I stared at the girl outside my door curiously. Her hair had been curled glamorously and dyed a dark shade of brown, rather than her usual glossy black hair. In place of her blue eyes were two green contact lenses. She was also dressed up like a celebrity in stiletto heels that were so tall they shouldn't have been legal and a blue designer dress.

"The one and only," she smiled mischievously. With a squeal, she stepped forward and hugged me so tightly that it hurt. Coming from a murderess, that was saying something.

When she finally stepped backwards, another voice said drily from behind her, "Was it just me or did I hear someone's bones cracking in that hug?"

"Jonas!" I squealed excitedly, jumping a hug on him too. "You came!"

He rolled his eyes, while still managing to look uncomfortable in my hug. "Of course I did, Cammie. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't? Besides, Liz promised that she could handle a few hours on her own."

"She woke up?!" I cried, and squeezed even more. "I knew she'd make it!"

"Me… too…" he breathed out. "Can't… breathe… though…"

"Oh," I mumbled, stepping backwards. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "That's okay. I guess it's a hormonal woman thing."

Zach, who was lingering on the wall casually, acknowledged Jonas with a sharp nod and a short, "Jonas."

"Zach," Jonas nodded in return, looking at Zach with formal distaste. I remembered how they had been arguing at Gallagher and realised that they never made up about it.

"Okay," Macey said confused, looking between the two men. "Am I missing something here? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Jonas said, eyeing Zach warily. Then he pushed past Zach into living room. Zach followed without a word of explanation to Macey.

Macey shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Oh well. If they don't want to say anything, I'll just leave it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Macey, that is so not like you at all."

"That's because I want to talk to _you _more than I want to find out about them," she whispered, widening into a cheeky grin. "We have to talk about you and Zach, remember? I told you that if I didn't find out all the details, I'd hunt you down and torture it out. And now you have to pay up."

My stomach flopped over in nervousness. "Macey, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Don't be stupid," Macey scolded using the tone of a teacher. She ushered me into the bathroom. "You're talking about this whether you want to or not."

"Fine," I reluctantly gave in. "What do you want to hear?"

"What happened?"

I filled her in on how Zach refused to let me visit Liz and how I kissed him as a distraction and about the argument that followed. She forced me to share about how the kiss felt and I told her about how good it felt, although there was a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as I said it.

"So basically, right now you are grovelling to make Zach feel better and he's the one who's angry with you," Macey mused.

I quickly debated about whether to tell her about Zach's drunkenness. In the end, I realised that she was treating me like best friends should and she deserved the truth. So I said, "Zach told me he was drunk. When I walked in on him and Tina."

She blinked. "I knew that. He always stank of alcohol when you were on a mission."

"Then why didn't you tell me?!" I exploded as loud as I could in a whisper.

"We knew that you'd forgive him otherwise." Macey looked close to tears. "We knew that if you found out about Zach being drunk, you'd give him another chance because you were that sort of do-gooder. Cammie, what he did was inexcusable, whether he was drunk or not. A good spy should have a high resistance to the effects of alcohol, so it was still his fault that he cheated on you. So we didn't tell you, because we knew that not knowing was the only way we could protect you. It was the only way you'd stay away from his bad influence."

"I spent a whole month in my room, Macey!" I hissed, knowing that we were probably now loud enough for Zach and Jonas to hear. At this point, I didn't really care. "I spent a whole month moping around and doing nothing!"

"But we thought you'd get over it. We thought you just needed a bit of alone time and then you'd be okay. We never anticipated that you'd want to join the Circle. Cammie, we were just trying to help, okay? Stop trying to push people away from you."

"Sorry," I apologised, trying to calm down. "Sorry. I know you've got good intentions really. You're just trying to be a good best friend. It's just I don't know who to trust anymore."

"Trust us," she soothed, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Let bygones be bygones. We did. Because even though what Zach did was wrong, you should trust him now. He wouldn't lie to you after he spent eleven years looking for you."

"That's the other thing that I wanted to tell you, Macey," I whispered so quietly that I was sure Zach and Jonas wouldn't be able to hear even if they were outside the door. "Zach claimed that he thought Tina was me that night. He said that he was hallucinating and that's the only reason he took Tina back to our house."

Macey frowned, puzzled. "But I swear… it's next to impossible to hallucinate on drink only."

"That's why I'm so shaken up."

Macey shook her head frantically. "No, no, no. Zach wouldn't lie to you."

"Then explain this," I challenged.

"Maybe… Zach had way too much drink and his brain tried to deal with it by thinking of you."

"Unlikely."

Macey sighed. "But I see no reason for Zach to lie about this. What would he get out of it?"

"If I believed it," I suggested, "it would save him a lot of blame."

"But you had already believed the whole thing about him being drunk, right?"

"You said yourself that he stank of drink," I pointed out. "And are you on his side or mine?"

"Neither. I'm on Team Zammie. That's your shipped name, by the way."

"But there is no Zammie. I'm not in a relationship with Zach."

Macey rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be. The sexual tension between you two speaks for itself."

"We don't have sexual tension!"

"You do," Macey grinned. "Come on… Say that you approve of his body. You know you do."

"I do not!" I stayed resolute and stubborn, my arms folded over my chest in a clear _no. _"I mean, I don't look at his body! See, I don't throw myself at every vaguely masculine guy who walks past me on the street, unlike _some _people. *Cough* Macey. *Cough.*"

"Hey, are you calling me a slut?" she giggled. "At least I'm not a nun, like you! You steer clear of every guy within a mile radius. If I didn't know you are in love with Zach, I'd say you were gay."

"There is nothing with gay people and I'm not in love with Zach," I protested.

"Really now?" Her eye glinted mischievously and she began tickling me. It was incredibly childish and I should have been immune to it, but I wasn't. Soon enough, I was rolling on the floor laughing. Literally.

"Stop it!" I howled with laughter. "Stop it!"

"Say you think that Zach is the world's sexiest god and you are totally in love with him," Macey instructed.

"No!" I yelled, but the laughing stopped my shout halfway through.

Zach's voice came from outside the bathroom door, "Hey is everything okay in there? And why are you two going to the bathroom at the same time? Is that a Gallagher girl thing?"

"She's. Torturing. Me." I gasped between giggles.

Macey yelled, "No I'm not! Cammie's just going to make a very interesting statement. Zach, you're welcome to come inside! And bring Jonas with you."

The door opened and my cheeks went three shades redder. Now, I'd have to say it in front of Jonas' camera and even worse, Zach.

"Say it, Cammie!" Macey urged.

"Alright, alright. IthinkthatZachistheworld'ssexiestgodandI'mtotallyi nlovewithhim."

"Sorry, I didn't hear that," Macey said mock apologetically. "Could you repeat again, slowly and loudly? I'm sure Zach and the camera wants to hear it again."

I shouted, "Fine! I. Think. That. Zach. Is. The. World's. Sexiest. God. And. I'm. Totally. In. Love. With. Him."

"That's better," Macey smiled and finally the tickling stopped.

My cheeks a tomato red colour, I groaned, "I can't believe you made me say that."

"It was only the truth, sister."

Zach's never-ending smirk was driving me crazy. "Jonas, you'd better email that video to me, because I'm saving it as my new ringtone."

"Alright, you two," I pointed at Jonas and Zach, then at the door. "Get out."

As soon as they were out of the door, Macey smiled. "Ringtone. That's cute. He wants to hear your voice every time someone calls."

"Macey, that wasn't funny. I don't trust him. I mean, you're just grabbing at any excuse to get Zach and me together. But face it. He was lying about hallucinations."

Macey bit her lip. "Fine, let's just say – hypothetically – that Zach was lying. What are you saying now?"

"I'm saying that he lied about one thing. How do I know that he wasn't lying about anything else? How can I trust him at all?"

"Because he loves you," Macey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "No, I take that back. He doesn't just love you. He's _in love _with you. He's so in love that he'd kill himself if he didn't have hope for you two to be together one day."

"How do you know that for sure?" I confronted her.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, he still has that ring, doesn't he?"

I scowled. "Fine. He's still in love with me. But that doesn't mean that he isn't lying to me. Some people lie to the people they love because they don't want their loved ones to know things that they aren't proud of. What if Zach is like that?"

"That just means that he loves you enough to think that you shouldn't say anything bad about him," Macey explained. "He wants to protect you from the ugly truth."

I sighed, exasperated. "But I don't want to be protected. I can't live on a relationship that's based on lies, even if the lies are made for the right reasons. I have a right to know things before I jump into them. That's why I've decided."

"Decided what?" Macey frowned. "That you're not into him anymore? But you guys are like soul mates!"

"No, not that," I breathed deeply. "No, I decided that it's better to trust no one than trust people who you shouldn't trust."

"But what does that mean?" Macey asked. "You're speaking in riddles. And let me tell you, I like things blunt and straightforward. Just don't beat around the bush and tell me straight out what you mean."

"You know how I trusted no one when I was a killer…?" I hinted.

She stared at me, wide-eyed, as the realisation dawned on her. "You're going back to the Circle, aren't you?"

I didn't say anything. I just shot her a really sorry look. The look on her face reflected something a lot different. She looked so mad at me that I would call it a murderous look. She ran towards the door and shielded it with her body.

"Cammie, the only way you'll get out this door is if you pry it from my cold, dead body," she warned. "Zach! Jonas! Get over here, right now!"

"That's okay," I smiled apologetically. "I don't need the door."

"Then how…" she trailed off as I turned to the window and broke the glass with a sharp kick. She launched herself at me, but it was a couple of seconds too late. I had launched out of the building already.

The last image of her I saw was her face peering out of the window with Zach's on one side and Jonas' on the other, her mouth open in a scream.

**Three Days Later**

**Third Person's POV**

A dirty-blonde woman in a smart business suit climbed out of a taxi. The driver questioned why she would want to stop on a small dirt track in the middle of nowhere, but she waved the question away and assured him that she was knew perfectly well where she was. Shrugging, the taxi driver ignited the engine once more and drove away, leaving marks in the road, dust drifting up in smoke and a woman standing in the middle of the road with a briefcase in one hand.

She examined her surroundings. The hot sun beat down on her back and the wilting crops were tired of the lack of water they got. There were only fields piled behind fields for miles around. But she knew better. Finally, she was coming home.

Beside the woman was a sign, pointing down the track that the taxi driver had driven away on. It read _Roseville 34 miles. _The woman shook her head at the sign, like she was brushing away all thoughts of what that sign read. She took out a pocket compass and began to walk from the sign, like she knew where she had to walk exactly down to the millimetre.

Ten minutes later, she glanced back at the sign. It was now so far away that it looked like a speck, sprouting only a tiny bit taller than the rest of the corn crops. She sighed, a faraway look on her face, like she wished she could go to Roseville rather than walk around in a field of corn. She looked down. Just like she predicted, there was an old dusty shoe lying underneath the long leaves of a dead corn crop. She picked it up and fingered around inside the shoe. She pulled out a tiny device, with a black button on it.

The woman pressed down firmly on the button, returned the device to the shoe and the shoe to its place under the corn. Then she looked forwards expectantly. Soon enough, a portable toilet rose up from the ground in front of her, shaking dirt off of its roof. The blonde stepped into the toilet and closed the door behind her. She found a button and a speaker on the wall and quickly pressed the button to speak.

"Hello," she said formally. "I would like to see Joseph Cavan, on my own terms."

A voice crackled through the speaker. "Who is this?"

"Agent Killer Chameleon, otherwise known as Cameron Morgan."

The portable toilet descended beneath the ground once more, pulling down the woman with it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Hi everyone! Love the reviews! Anyway, because I know this story is **_**really **_**long and takes ages, guess what? After I finish it, I'm going to do a rewrite – which will basically be a shorter version of this one. Maybe I'll edit some scenes a bit too.**

**And sorry to anyone who wanted to see Liz and Arianne's conversation. I was just sitting there, wondering what I should write and came up with nothing. Besides, I'm a bit wrapped up with Cammie's drama right now.**

**Aw, I was listening to 'The A Team' by Ed Sheeran while I was writing this chapter. Felt like crying. Why don't you guys listen to a sad song while you read this? It really helps build up a sad moment.**

**And then I felt like jumping up in happiness. Guess what everyone! This is the big chapter! J**

**Catherine's POV (Don't read if you're a bit squeamish)**

"I'll ask you one last time," Joseph growled. Sparks flew off his blade as he sharpened it with a stone. "Where is Cameron Morgan?"

"Rot in hell," I spat at his feet.

"My patience is wearing _very _thin right now, Catherine," he warned. "I said, _'Where is Cameron Morgan?'"_

I met his menacing gaze with an icy one of my own. "And I said, _'Rot in hell.' _I guess we both have to repeat ourselves, Joseph."

He placed the tip of the knife at my neck, just deep enough to draw a few drops of blood. I felt my warm blood begin to trickle down. "Last chance, my old friend. Where are you hiding, Cameron?"

**(Squeamish bit over)**

Totally ruining the torturous moment, his phone began to ring. It wasn't even like his ringtone was _the_ _Phantom of the Opera _or anything as creepy. It was _Sexy and I Know It _by LMFAO. I was surprised he'd even know any music from this century.

Joseph tried to ignore it, but it kept ringing insistently. Clearly annoyed, Joseph whipped out his phone and yelled, "What do you want?!"

Any normal person probably couldn't hear the answer, but with my enhanced hearing, it was as clear as day. It was the receptionist, sounding intimidated and scared already. "J-j-joseph, y-you have a visitor…"

"I'm busy," he replied, uninterested.

The receptionist hurried on, probably knowing that he was going to hang up. "She claims that she's Cameron Morgan."

I stifled a gasp. What was Cammie doing here? She was supposed to be in isolation with Zach!

"Well?" Joseph said expectantly, his interest now at its peak. "Is she?"

"She certainly looks like her," the receptionist said hesitantly.

Joseph rolled his eyes. "Fine. You're obviously useless. Why didn't she call us to get her rather than take it the old fashioned way with the portable toilet?"

"She said she was coming on her own terms," the receptionist explained.

"Alright. Let her in."

"I already have, sir," he said proudly, expecting that Joseph would be pleased at his efficiency.

He wasn't. "You let her in before you called me? Why would you do that?"

"You weren't picking up, sir."

"Ugh, you agents are getting worse and worse," he pinched the bridge of his nose for calm. "Okay, send her to my office – no, actually, I've changed my mind. Send her to my _torture room._"

"Yes sir," the receptionist said and hung up.

"What, so you're going to torture us together?" I predicted.

Joseph smiled cruelly. "No. I'm going to do worse."

**Cammie's POV**

"Get your hands off me," I growled at the guard who was holding my arm so tight that I felt the blood circulation in it get cut off completely. He ignored me. I decided to let my authority seep into my voice. "I _said, _get your hands off me! I am the Killer Chameleon and I'm here because I want to be! I'm not some prisoner you can drag around. I know this place better than any of you do. I could overpower you _and _your friends in ten seconds."

Reluctantly, the agent let me shake his hand off my arm. It wasn't soon afterwards that we stopped outside Joseph's torture room. I had only been in there once and I remembered thanking my lucky stars that I hadn't been the one strapped to the table. He had wanted me in there because I had recently passed my training with flying colours. He had wanted me to be his heir, the Circle's next leader. He had wanted to mentor me. I had passed the offer; my official reason being that I loved being in the field too much and my _real _reason being that I didn't want anyone to be my mentor but Catherine.

This time, though? I was utterly insecure here, not that I let it show.

One of my six guards stepped forward, out of the tight circle they had formed around me, and rapped on the door.

"Come in," Joseph's voice boomed.

The rest of guards stepped away hurriedly, looking at the door with terrified expressions. I rolled my eyes at their fear and pushed the door open, letting it slam shut behind me. Excluding the bloody table and the tray of assorted torturing weapons, there really wasn't that much to be scared about in here.

Unless you count Catherine strapped to the table, bruised and bloody. I resisted the urge to rush to her side and forced away my look of shock. I couldn't afford to acknowledge her.

"Ah, Cammie," Joseph smiled at me with no warmth. "It's such a pleasure to see you've returned!"

"The pleasure's all mine," I answered, with an equally deadly smile. "How are you today, Joseph? How has your day gone so far?"

"My day was progressing very well, thank you. Although, you're entrance has made things a lot more interesting." He gestured at Catherine. "As you can see, I was very busy asking Catherine where you were. But seeing as you've had the sense to return on your own terms, I don't need to ask her anymore. In fact, she is of no use to me whatsoever."

"Indeed, it would seem so," I nodded, trying to keep my arms beside my chest, rather than around his neck. It was obvious in his voice that he was threatening her, and even if he wasn't, I didn't like the way he was talking about her. And I hated the way we were talking so calmly and pleasantly when Catherine was dying on a torture table.

"We'll talk more about Catherine later." He signalled at the two chairs. "Please. Make yourself feel at home. We have a lot to talk about."

Calmly, I sat down on one of the seats and he sat in the other.

"So," he began, "what happened while you were gone? Fill me in on all the details."

"Oh, you know how annoyingly persistent the Gallagher and Blackthorne alumni are," I lied. "They chased me all over the US, and at some point, we were even in Sydney! So when they finally caught me and dragged me to Gallagher, I couldn't get out. They kept trying to tell me that I am not who I am or whatever. Such a bore. And it was such a bitch to shake them all off."

"Mm," he narrowed his eyes at me. "How do I know you aren't really working for them right now?"

"I'm not," I said confidently. Inside, I didn't know what side I was on. I was so confused. "Anyone who has emotions can't act like they don't, no matter how hard they try. I don't have that problem. And are you saying that you don't trust me, Joseph? That's terrible. I remember that at one point, you were going to trust me with the whole of the Circle!"

"First thing, I don't trust _anybody. _And second thing, that 'point' ended the moment you denied my offer."

I pretended to look concerned. "Joseph, did you ever find your heir?"

"Not yet," he said. "But there was none as talented as you."

"Aw, thank you. You are _so sweet,_" I said, holding a hand over my heart. I turned to Catherine. "Hear that, Catherine? The old man thinks I'm talented!" I turned back to Joseph. "Well, I think you're not too bad at your job either, ancient one."

He grunted. "You still haven't convinced me that I can let you back into the Circle."

"Well, I knew this would come up," I explained, "so I've put together a small presentation on my phone that I did during my car journey down here. I got them from my file in the CIA."

I held out my phone and flicked through some photos of me that were caught on CCTV. There were photos of the crime scene in New York when I had shot Liz and Arianne, me on that motorcycle in Australia as I rammed through the glass, me in Roseville as I faced off the Gallagher kids, and finally some of my recent adventure in New York when I flew out of the broken glass window.

He nodded, impressed. "Well done."

"Does that mean you will let me re-join the Circle?" I asked hopefully.

"Hmm…" he thought aloud, before he looked directly at me with a cruel smile. "No. But if you can pass one test, I'll let you in once more."

"And what would that test be?" I enquired.

His smile grew wider. "I want you to kill Catherine."

I gulped, fighting to keep my face emotionless.

_Do it, _a dark twisted voice said in my head. _It's the only option you have._

_But she's _Catherine_! You can't kill her! _A good voice screamed.

_You have to. You have no choice in the matter._

_Yes, you do, _the good voice advised. _You will always have a choice to do right or wrong._

The bad voice said, _Let me put it this way. It's either her… or you, because they'll kill you if they suspect anything. Besides, it's better to kill her now than let her suffer more of Joseph's torture. This is saving her from the pain of days of more torture._

_This is saving her. _The voice echoed over and over in my head, until there was nothing the angel good voice could say to counter it.

That settled it. I was going to kill Catherine. I was close to tears and I felt like I was ripping my own heart out, but I had to do it.

"I'll do it," I told Joseph firmly and steadily. "I'll kill Catherine."

"Do it then," Joseph challenged, gesturing at the weapons. "Take your pick."

I stared at the weapons. There were a mace, a spiked rod, loads of knives, a gun, three syringes, and loads of other weapons that I didn't even know the name of.

"What's this?" I held up a syringe.

Joseph pointed at Catherine. "That's Catherine's invention. It makes people veins feel like they're on fire for one hour, and then it destroys that part of the body. You can use it if you like."

"What about this one?" I held up the second syringe.

"That's the cure for the first syringe."

I held the last one. "And this?"

**(If you're squeamish, all you need to know is this is anaesthetic)**

"_That _is concentrated, powerful anaesthetic. It's used in an interrogation technique, invented by _moi_," he said proudly and showed me a roughly sharpened wooden stake and a small vial of some liquid. "First, you dip the stake in this poison. Then you stab the prisoner with it, and the rough sharpening means that splinters remain in the body even after you take the stake out. But the anaesthetic is used because it takes away the pain for a few moments, which fills the prisoner with hope, but then it reacts with the poison's chemicals to make it feel worse."

**(Squeamish part over)**

"Alright," I smiled. "You really enjoy the graphic detail, don't you?"

"I do," he answered. "Have you chosen your weapon?"

I held up the anaesthetic. "Without the poison, it's painless. But everyone knows that too much of it can kill you."

"That is the most _boring _choice of weapon you could _ever _make, though you get kudos for being imaginative," Joseph watched me, intrigued. "I'll let you take the easy route out, this once, because I don't think you have the guts to kill her. Go ahead."

**(Sad part everyone)**

Catherine and I locked eyes. She had a kind of acceptance in her green orbs and, even more comforting, a sort of encouragement, like she _wanted _me to kill her. I tried not to think about the way her dancing light in her eyes would begin to dim until it would disappear completely.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," I whispered, welling up with tears. "I'm sorry that I didn't follow your master plan to protect me. I'm sorry I'm going to kill you. Most of all, I'm sorry that I failed you. In everything."

"You never failed me, Cammie," she soothed. "I'm the one who failed _you. _I'm the one who strapped you to a chair and injected you with anti-emotion fluid. I'm the one who ruined your life."

"But I'm the one who'll kill you."

She smiled weakly. "I forgive you."

I was close to sobbing. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, my daughter. Tell Morgan I love her, will you?"

"Of course I will."

"I'm ready now. Goodbye Cammie."

"Goodbye Catherine."

I stabbed into her rib cage with the anaesthetic and injected the whole huge syringe directly into her heart. Her eyes widened with slight pain and then her sharp gaze into my eyes faded, leaving her eyes glassy and unseeing. Her entire body relaxed, like she had been tense and alert, and she had finally fallen asleep. I guess she had fallen asleep. Her death was like an endless deep sleep, from which she'd never wake.

Even with all those bruises all over her body, even in death, she looked like an angel. She'd always be my guardian angel.

She'd been there for me, whenever the emotions injection and therapy failed and I'd broken down. She'd been there when I was struggling through my training. She'd even been there when I was going through labour, every minute of it. She'd been there to take Morgan to school when I loved work more than my own daughter. She was my mentor, my mother and my friend.

Gone.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to bawl my eyes out and scream and punch the wall. But people don't always get what they want, especially if getting what they want will arouse suspicion and get them killed. So instead, I turned to Joseph and rolled my eyes.

"Man, that woman was _so _clingy," I groaned, feeling guilty. "She was always following me around like a lost puppy. And she kept saying '_oh, you're my daughter!' _or '_oh, I love Morgan SO much. She is such a lovely granddaughter'. _Please! She wasn't even my real mother."

"That conversation you had seemed pretty real to me," Joseph said suspiciously.

I shrugged indifferently. "You thought I would kill someone without taunting them? Where's the fun in that?"

"Are you lying?"

"Do you detect any lies?" I challenged. My heart beat quickly, wondering what the answer would be.

He cocked his head, then shook it slowly. "I think you're genuine."

"_Thank _you," I said. "Took you long enough. Look, all I want is to be able to trust nobody but myself. And the Circle gets me there. What do you want to do with me now?"

"You're old room is still free. I'll have clothing sent to you and I'll contact you when we need you to do a job," he said, opening the door. "Ladies first."

"Why, thank you, Joseph," I smiled, leading the way out. I knew the path to my old room from here as well as the back of my own hand; especially because Catherine's old office was down the hall.

I wondered who would take the office now. Where would all her stuff go? Perhaps they had moved everything already and gave it to someone else.

With a heavy sigh, I continued down the corridor, past the technology section. Then in the dungeons, I heard a croaky voice call my name. I stopped. I frowned. I turned back and headed towards the woman's voice. She was inside a cell, covering her face, but she had obviously seen and recognised me to have asked for me. Now it seemed the figure had changed her mind and didn't want to speak to me after all.

"Who are you?" I asked shakily. "Tell me who you are!"

The woman sighed and took a deep breath. Then she removed her hands from her face. Tina. After all those years, she looked exactly the same, except now she had small crinkles in her forehead and looked like she had aged a lot. And she was covered in a layer of grime and dirt.

"Tina?" I said incredulously. "Tina, why are you here? When did they capture you?"

"You're not mad at me?" she stared at me, bewildered and confused. "But… I… Cammie, I have to tell you something."

"I know what you did," I said gravely. "But you being here is more important than what happened in the past."

She looked determined to say what she wanted to. "Cammie."

"No," I snapped. "What's done is done. I don't care about it anymore anyway."

The fire in her eyes was as fierce as mine. "I have to tell you" –

"I honestly don't care!" I shouted. "I'm sick of my life being ruled over by the fact that you and Zach had an affair while I was in Cuba! So I don't want to hear whatever sick apology you have to say!"

I began to storm away, but she yelled out, "I DRUGGED HIM, CAMMIE! I DRUGGED ZACH!"

I ran back to her cell and placed both hands on the bars. I hissed, "What did you say, exactly?"

"I said, I drugged him," she sobbed. "I drugged him into sleeping with me because he refused to when he was drunk. I bribed the barman to lace his drink with marijuana and his mind yearning for you took it from there."

"So… all this time… I've been blaming Zach…" The realisation was hitting me. "When really… I should be blaming _you._"

"I am so sorry, Cammie."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I was shooting her such a venomous look that she cowered away in fear. "Because of you, I spent _four weeks _stuck in my bedroom, hating everyone and rocking myself back and forth to comfort my broken heart; _nine months _having a baby that I hated at the time inside my body, the constant reminder of Zach; and _eleven years _killing people ruthlessly with no heart, the promising spy gone bad, the evil girl who everyone quivered in fear from, the merciless murderess who could fire a gun at anyone and _laugh _while I did it. Look what you created, Tina. A monster. Look what blood you have on your hands. Dozens of targets and hundreds of those who got in my way."

"No!" she sobbed covering her ears. "No! Please stop!"

"Tina, you made a killing machine out of me. And it was all because you wanted to steal Zach for one night."

"I didn't realise that would happen!" she pleaded. "I thought that we could forget what happened afterwards!"

"And never tell me what went on that night?" I questioned. "Well thanks a lot, Tina. I really feel the Gallagher girl code of honour and trust."

"You can't say much about Gallagher code," she said weakly. "You've violated that when you shot Liz and threatened the others."

"Because a killer was made by you," I finished coldly.

With that, I left her. In a rage, I stormed back to my room in a murderous mood and I kicked the door open savagely. It slammed behind me. Finally, now I was alone. I gave a despairing yell and chucked a photo of our Gallagher girl class (with Tina in it) at the wall as hard as I could. It smashed, shattered and fell to the ground with a large crash. Then I launched myself headfirst onto my bed, sobbing for Catherine and for my horrible life. I was drowning in self-pity.

"Are you okay?" I heard a male's voice in my ear.

Immediately, I flipped the figure onto the ground and pinned him down in a straddle. But when I saw his face…

"Zach?!" I whispered, my anger forgotten as I relished in Zach's presence.

He smirked. "The one and only. I" –

I cut him off with a kiss. Straight away, his lips responded to my own. The kiss was slow, deep, and meaningful. It was making up for all those years of no kisses like this, of no each other. It was the best kiss I ever had.

But it had to end, because Zach's burning desire for my kiss was overcome by his burning desire to know _why _I kissed him after leaving him in New York.

"I didn't trust you," I apologised. "You said you were hallucinating and I didn't believe it. Because it's scientifically impossible."

"Then what changed your mind?" he whispered, still breathless from our heated moment.

"Tina," I spat her name out like a curse and I stood up, the moment of reunion replaced by my hatred for Tina. "She's here, you know. She's a prisoner. She told me about how she laced marijuana into your drink through the barman. That's how you hallucinated."

Zach sank his head into his hands. "That's one of the first rules of spying. Don't accept drinks from strangers, because crazy bitches might have put something in them. I am such a stupid idiot. I never should have started drinking. I shouldn't have come to depend on the barman so much. I didn't even know him."

"Hey, you didn't know anything," I comforted Zach. "And now that we've got it all cleared up, I've decided to forgive you. For good."

Zach smiled shyly. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," I said, equally as bashfully.

"Friends?" he asked.

I faltered a bit at that word. Sometimes, being friends was even worse than being enemies. At least as enemies, you don't have to be around him all the time, seeing him date different women and fall in love with someone else. Then I decided that I'd give it a go now, or I'd never get the guts to again and I'd be friend zoned for life. "Zach, if you're still willing, I was hoping we could become… more than friends."

There was a long, agonising pause where he stayed silent. Finally, he smiled. "I'd like that a lot, Gallagher Girl."

We leant towards each other slowly. I could feel his lips coming closer and closer, building sexual tension. And I couldn't help thinking, Macey was right about us. There is a Zammie after all.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys. Just to clarify. That was **_**not **_**the ending, although thinking back, that might have been a nice ending… Sorry for the long wait. It took me a **_**long **_**time to wrap my head around the weapons and how they work and which ones I should choose for this story. Anyway, I hope you liked the last chapter. Here's the next. J**

**Zach's POV**

"Now get out," she ordered against my lips.

I lifted my head and looked into her eyes, bewildered. "Do you do this to all the guys you make out with?"

She murmured, "You're the first guy I've _kissed _in a very long time, let alone get to 2nd base."

Relieved to hear that, I rolled off her body, so that I was lying next to her. "Neither have I. But why do want me to get out?"

"It's dangerous here," she sighed regretfully. "You have to go before someone comes in here."

"Dangerous is my middle name," I said. "Besides, the only reason I'm here is to rescue you out. Of course, I didn't expect the kissing. But it was definitely a plus. My time here wouldn't be half as exciting without the passionate reunion we had."

"Zach," she rolled her eyes. "You have to get out of here. You've already been long enough. How did you get in here anyway? How did you find the Circle's headquarters?"

_**Flashback**_

_A key turned in the lock and the door swung open. I didn't look up from my hands as I muttered darkly, "For the last time, go _away_, Macey. I don't want to talk it out. I want to brood it out."_

"_Ha, he thinks we're Macey," a high-pitched voice giggled. "Isn't that funny, Bex?"_

_My head whipped up to look at who entered, Morgan and Bex. Morgan had that happy-go-lucky expression on her face and Bex was staring at me in a disapproving way, with one hand on her hip. Running up to them, I hugged Bex tightly. She had been such a great friend over the years and we'd come close enough to call each other best friends on occasion. She'd always got on with me better than Macey, who was always Cammie's friend more than mine._

_And Morgan. So far, I hadn't felt too close to her. She was my daughter, yes, but she was Cammie's daughter first. We were related by DNA, nothing more. I hadn't felt any of that fatherly love towards her, which had made me feel slightly guilty. But now, I gathered her up in my arms and swung her around in circles while she laughed like chime bells ringing, loud and clear. I didn't know what had changed, but now I felt some sort of connection to her. I was so overprotective and relieved that she was unharmed that I was overwhelmed by my own feelings._

"_Why are you suddenly so happy to see me?" Morgan said, scrunching her eyebrows together in puzzlement._

"_I don't know," I laughed, "I just don't know."_

_Bex clapped her hands together twice for attention. "Sorry to break up the reunion, but I need you to fill us in on everything. Why did Cammie leave? When did she leave? What purposes did she want to fulfil?"_

_I frowned. "How did you know she left?"_

"_We're psychic, Dad," Morgan nodded. My heart swelled with pride as I heard her call me that for the first time._

"_No, we just got a call from Macey saying that you were giving up because you thought that she'll never love you again," Bex crossed her arms and glared at me. "That isn't good enough, young man. You can _never _lose hope, especially when you put together 'love' and 'Zammie'."_

"_For God's sake, who came up with that shipping?" I rolled my eyes. "Everyone has suddenly started using it."_

"_That would be moi," Macey trilled in a posh voice and entered the hotel suite, pointing at herself lavishly. "I created Zammie. Zammie is my baby. Aren't I genius?"_

"_First of all, weren't you supposed to be working on your newest edition of the _McHenry _magazine? I thought I was going to get one day of freedom. Second, we created Zammie, not you. Third, I am pretty sure you are not our mom. That would lead to Cammie and I being siblings and committing incest. And finally, no – you are not genius. This whole Zammie thing is driving me crazy. I even heard Solomon say it when he called me the other day."_

"_First of all," she imitated my list form of speaking, "they postponed the photo shoot until tomorrow, because one of the models broke a leg and they need to find a replacement."_

_Bex covered Macey's mouth with a hand. "I am _not _listening to you argue. It would take ages, people, and the clock is ticking before Cammie builds up the dreaded emotion-free wall again. We need to work, and work fast."_

"_I don't think we'll ever get Cammie back," I sighed, staring back down at my hands like I had been doing the whole morning. "Perhaps we should try to move on."_

"_No!" Morgan shouted stubbornly, punching my face._

"_How did you get so violent?" I asked in awe._

_Morgan smiled. "Bex taught me. She also told me about how she walked in on your kissing a thousand times. You can't leave all that behind. You can't just forget the love of your life that easily. You can't vow to 'never part, even if you have to claw your way through fifty terrorist organizations' and then go back on it."_

"_Okay," I looked at her accusingly. "Where did you hear that?"_

"_Bex showed me the leaflet where you wrote down the essay you were going to say when you were going to propose," Morgan and Bex both smiled sheepishly. "Let me tell you, you could have just gone with 'will you marry me?' and leave it at that. Anyway, you and my mom are like soul mates. You can't desert her now, after you spent so long searching for her, desperately in love."_

"_I don't know," I said hesitantly._

_Morgan jabbed a threatening finger under my chin. "Even when she was at her worst, she still loved me which just shows that my mother can be saved. So go after her, or I'll peel your skin off bit by bit and boil it for my lunch."_

"_What happened to sweet innocent - ?"_

"_Bex taught me how to threaten too."_

_The corners of my mouth twitched as I tried not to laugh. Bex seemed to have made a whole new Morgan. "Aright," I said, "I'll go rescue her."_

"_Good," Morgan said, business-like. She brought out a long pen and tapped it like a teacher on the map Bex set out on the table. "This is where the Circle is based…"_

_**Flashback Over**_

"It's a long story," I explained. "To cut it short, Bex and Morgan swore to kill me if I didn't go after you, and by the way, she's turning into a Bex Junior; Macey, Solomon, your mom and I ambushed a Circle agent and took his clothing and fingerprint; and Liz and Jonas are working from Liz's bedside. Together, they're overriding the Circle's firewalls and putting the security system on a subtle loop."

"But that won't hold the Circle's technical team off for long," she bit her lip in worry. "They aren't stupid, you know."

"I know."

"Then _go_!" she told me, making shooing motions with a hand.

I began tugging my shirt over my head. "Why don't you go with me? That's what I came for, right?"

She shook her head apologetically. "I have to stay here."

"But" –

"That's final, Zach," she smiled sadly.

"Fine," I dropped my head. "But I'll be back for you, okay?"

Remembering something, she quickly grabbed some pen and paper and scribbled down a list. "If you're coming back, could you get these?"

"Why do you want these?" I asked, staring at some points on her list. _20 M84 stun grenades _was just one of them.

Cammie looked away from me, staring uncertainly at the wall. "Today… I had to kill your mother to prove that I'm still Circle material. And then I found out that it was a total waste to come back at all, because you were telling the truth. So I'm avenging Catherine. I'm going to take down the Circle."

I gasped, and then shook my head frantically. "You can't do that. It's too dangerous. I won't let you. No, you are coming with me, right now."

"Zach, please," she begged with a desperate expression. "I have to do this. You don't understand. The Circle forced the anti-emotion fluid down my throat. The Circle killed my dad. The Circle made me kill Catherine, my best friend. The Circle has doubtlessly killed thousands in their time. I can't let this pass. I'd rather die trying than not try at all."

I cupped her face in my hands and tilted it upwards so that I could see the fire in her eyes. They seemed so determined that I knew nothing would get in her way. Even if Morgan dropped dead right now, Cammie would find a way to blame the Circle and it'd give her even more reason. Even if I dragged her to a remote island and tied her up, she would never stop thrashing to get out. There was no way that we could be together if I stopped her from doing this.

"There's nothing that will stop you, is there?" I sighed and she nodded. I took a deep breath. "Then let me fight with you."

She blinked, surprised, and then smiled. "Alright, rebel. You can take the Circle down with me."

Still cupping her chin, I brought my lips down on hers in a last goodbye kiss. "I'll see you soon, Gallagher Girl."

And this time I knew for sure that my nickname suited the girl who it belonged to. She was brave and strong, and she was finally the Circle's most dreaded nemesis. In her heart, she had always been and will always be a Gallagher girl. My Gallagher Girl.

**Morgan's POV**

"You guys are gross," I groaned as Bex and Grant started kissing passionately.

Between kisses, Bex panted, "This'll be you in a few years, so you'd better get used to it. Besides, Grant and I haven't seen each other in ages."

That was true. Grant had been stuck in prison with Nick, who was apparently Macey's boyfriend, and Townsend, an agent who was apparently recently married to Abby. The only reason he were here now was because Grandma (Rachel, not Catherine) decided to bail them out after Bex and I ditched my other Grandma's plan.

He wasn't the only addition to the gathering inside Dad's suite though. It seemed like his jail buddies were here too, along with Rachel, Solomon, Abby, Bex, me, and even some of the Gallagher Academy teachers – because it was winter break and they wanted to see Mom's return. Most of them lived in NYC anyway, because the CIA was there and all. There was Professor Smith and Madame Dabney, who both still looked in shape in their late sixties, and Professor Buckingham, who was too old to do any field work, but was happy to help with supporting the others. There was Arianne, who wanted to apologize for yelling at Mom after her mom convinced her that Cammie wasn't just trouble. There was Jonas and Mr Mosckowitz, who had come here after the three hour span of time in which Zach had to get in and out.

The group of Mom supporters didn't end in this suite. Dr Fibbs was in the Gallagher labs creating an antidote to Mom's anti-emotion injection, using her blood to find the cure. Liz was at the hospital. Macey was waiting with a car a mile from the Circle's headquarters, ready to speed away when Mom and Dad came and a one-and-a-half-hour plane to take them from Washington.

It had been seven hours since Dad left earlier. The flight that they should have caught should have arrived by now. They should be back soon.

Just as I said that, the door opened and all conversation ceased like someone had flipped a switch. Dad entered the room.

"Dad, you're back!" I yelled as soon as I saw him walk through the door, jumping out of my chair and rushing towards him in relief and excitement. He caught me in a hug and carried me towards the bed. As he did, I breathed, "I thought you'd die in there. I mean, I wanted Mom back enough to show you where the Circle's headquarters is, but when you went, I was scared to _death _that you wouldn't come back alive."

"You have no faith in me at all, do you, Me Junior?" he shook his head in mock shame.

"I really don't, Me Senior," I agreed. Then I demanded, "Where's Mom?"

His feet were suddenly very interesting to him. "Well… she wanted to stay there… so I let her…"

"Are you _kidding _me?" Bex accused sharply as the room went into uproar. "We went into all this trouble to get you in there and you come back because she says she would like to stay there? Are you crazy, Goode? I don't care if she _wants _to be a killer_. _Your job was to take her out, even if she was kicking and screaming!"

Dad argued, "She doesn't want to be a killer. She's not one of those Circle robots anymore."

Solomon's forehead creased. "She isn't? Then why is she still there?"

"She wants to take down the Circle for once and for all," a voice from the door said, to everyone's surprise, though I wasn't sure it was because of what she said or who said it.

"Macey!" Nick stood up, staring at his girlfriend with love-struck awe.

Macey smiled at him, "The one and only. Anyway, Cammie has everything she wants us to get for her plan written down on a piece of paper. But anything you hear now does not go out of this room. You can't tell the Director or family or your best friend or even Chef Louis."

Everyone murmured their agreement, and Dad reached into his pocket for the list and read aloud, "_First of all, I need to know who is in my plan and who isn't. When Zach comes back to formulate a plan with me, I need to know who can contribute._ So… who's in? Just remember that we could all die on this plan."

Abby was the first to raise her hand. "Someone needs to punish them for Matthew's death. Someone needs to take them down. They've been around for too long."

Soon afterwards, the whole room was in, including Liz who Jonas had called to ask and Solomon, whose shoulder and leg was still healing. Even Arianne and I wanted to be a part of the team, although Jonas scolded Arianne for even _thinking _that she could join and Dad shot me such a sharp look that I was momentarily silenced.

When I found my voice again, I said, "Hey. You can't keep me out of this."

"We can, and we will," Dad replied. "You're too young, too clumsy. You'd be caught in two seconds. No offence, sweetie, but you'd be more of a liability than a benefit."

"That _is _offensive," I retorted. "Why is it that people always say 'no offence' before they offend someone?"

"It's because they're trying to gently break it to someone that the said person is not wanted on a top secret mission which would get them killed," Dad answered.

"You need us!" I yelled stubbornly. Arianne wore a similar furious expression. "I mean… Arianne can help with her computer skills and I'm the only one here who knows the Circle compound. I've lived there all my life! You can't leave us out because we're kids!"

"You're not joining us, and that's final," Jonas spoke up firmly. "We can get a map of the Circle compound when Zach meets Cammie and Arianne is too young for these data encryptions. Honey, you're simply not advanced enough yet."

As Arianne reduced to sulking, I looked around the room helplessly. Grandma was staring at me sympathetically, but shook her head. Bex had her arms folded in a definite 'no'. Macey shrugged when I looked to her for help, like she could do nothing about it. Sitting down, I muttered to Arianne, "Ugh, they're all horrible! This is so unfair. We're not as naïve and stupid as they think, you know."

"I know, right?!" Arianne complained back.

Dad continued reading the list. "We need: _one semi-automatic pistol for each person; one revolver for each person; two Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns for each person; 20 M84 stun grenades and 20 MI8 smoke grenades for the whole team; and one powerful remote-controlled car bomb – actual size, not a toy one!"_

"A car bomb?" Solomon asked incredulously. "That sounds like a suicide mission to me."

"The whole thing is a suicide mission, buddy," Townsend answered. "The real question is: where are we going to get the remote-controlled car bomb? Car bombs are easy enough to find or make, but a remote-controlled one? That'll be quite rare."

Nick grinned shyly, speaking for the first time since Dad entered the room. "I know a guy."

Everybody groaned or laughed at some inside joke I hadn't yet heard. Arianne whispered in my ear, "Nick knows a guy for everything. There was this one time Nairobi when Grant said he was bored and Nick said he knew a guy who could get prostitutes in any city if Grant wanted. Bex kicked them both where it hurts."

Nick smiled bashfully at everyone's reaction. "But this one won't be on our side of the law exactly. The guy I know is actually a woman." Macey's face twisted with jealousy and slight suspicion, but Nick didn't notice. "She's an international thief, a really good one. She robbed the Henley and was in the middle of the Cleopatra's Emerald fiasco. **(A/N: Anyone here recognise who it is?) **So, when I said I could get the remote-controlled car bomb, I meant – I know someone who could steal it from the CIA."

There was a short silence. Stealing from the CIA… that was a definite no-no. But where else would we get the car bomb? We didn't have enough time or money to privately manufacture it and we couldn't steal from other countries because they wouldn't take it nicely that a bunch of American agents stole their weapons. We could try and deny that we took it, but it would look fairly obvious when the Circle will get blown up by a car bomb soon afterwards.

"I don't like it," Rachel started hesitantly, "but it's our best option and we have to look at the lesser of two evils here. Stealing a remote-controlled car bomb from the CIA or letting the Circle carry on. I'll go with Nick's idea."

"I won't," Macey set her jaw stubbornly. "How do you know that girl anyway? When did you meet? Who is she?"

Nick raised an eyebrow and smiled, amused. "Is that jealousy I detect, Fashion Princess?"

"No, Police Boy," she replied hastily. "I'm just… curious."

"Jealous."

"Curious."

"Jealous."

"Alright, stop it!" Professor Buckingham snapped. "You two are giving me a migraine."

"Sorry." Macey glanced at her former teacher, but turned back to Nick and glared. "But I'm not going to stop until _he _answers my questions."

"I'm not going to answer her questions unless _she _admits she's jealous," Nick smirked immaturely. Solomon rolled his eyes and commented quietly to Rachel that this would take forever.

Macey took an exasperated breath. "Fine, I'm jealous! Answer my questions."

"Thank you," Nick grinned. "Her name is Kat Bishop."

"The girl is Kat Bishop?" Macey sighed with deep relief. "Phew, I thought it would be some sort of man-stealing bitchy whore."

"Language," Madame Dabney reminded. "There are children here and even without them, it's not polite to swear."

Nick and Macey ignored her, because they were intrigued by how the other knew Kat Bishop. At the same time, they said, "How do you know Kat?"

"Can you please do this later?" Dad asked. "We're on a tight schedule."

Nick and Macey exchanged a _this-is-not-the-end-of-the-conversation _look, but were silent thankfully. Professor Smith agreed with Dad, "He's right. We've got limited time. So, can we trust this Bishop woman?"

"Yes," Nick and Macey answered at the same time, and then looked at each other in surprise. Arianne giggled at how much they were like clones.

Rachel nodded. "Then let's get the show on the road. There are sixteen of us in the room" –

"Eighteen," I interrupted. "There are eighteen of us."

"Sixteen," Solomon corrected. "You two aren't participating, remember?"

I rolled my eyes as Grandma continued what she was saying. "There are fifteen of us here, plus Liz who can only work from the bedside, and Dr Fibbs if we can convince him to leave the Gallagher labs. We have six different types of item to get. That means we have three people on each item and two teams of two. Abby, Solomon, and I will find the revolvers. Professor Smith, Madame Dabney and Patricia, you work on the submachine guns. Bex, Grant and Dr Fibbs (if he's joining us) will find the stun grenades. Zach, Jonas and Liz will find the smoke grenades. Mr Moscowitz and Townsend will find the pistols. And finally, Nick and Macey, you work with Ms Bishop on the R-C car bomb, because you know her."

"And I suppose we're should just lie back and relax?" Arianne asked casually as everyone started to filter out of the suite. Now there was just Zach and Jonas left, the two fathers.

"Precisely," Dad replied, doling out a wad of cash to each of us and Jonas quickly followed suit. "Here, find something to do in New York. Go shopping, eat pizza, whatever. Just stay out of our way."

"Harsh much," I muttered.

Dad's face softened and he bent down to stare into my green eyes with his matching ones. "Mor, it's for your own benefit. Cammie would never forgive me if you got killed on this mission. I'd never forgive myself. It's better this way. I know you're safe."

I looked over at Arianne, who was being told something similar by Jonas. I stared back at Dad for a moment, debating whether to be mad at him or not, finally deciding that I shouldn't waste the time I had with him. I had only just got my father and now he might leave my life again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Goodbye, Dad."

"I'm not going to the Circle yet, you know," he replied sounding strangled. He seemed quite bewildered. "You'll see me again."

"I know," I retorted softly. "But the clock's ticking until you do leave for the Circle mission and besides, I'll miss you wherever you go without me."

"Me too, Little One," he said with a small time, disentangling himself from my embrace. Holding my hands to his heart, he said, "See you later. Have fun in New York."

"I will," I promised seriously.

With that, he and Jonas left the suite. He tossed me the key card just as he closed the door. Immediately after he left, I turned around to face Arianne. She looked at my excited expression, confused.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked. "We just got banned from the mission."

My grin widened. "Just think about it. We've each got a wad of cash. We want to go on the mission. We just need to buy some weapons and travel to Virginia. I know where the Circle is and how to get in. You know how to hack into accounts, for in case we run out of money. Piece it together and what do you get?"

Arianne squealed excitedly. "Us going to take down the Circle!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Hi everyone. I loved seeing all those amazing reviews. And to answer all your questions… read on! J**

**Morgan's POV**

"The Subjects are moving towards Starbucks," Arianne's voice crackled in my ear through the comms unit. "Do you copy, M?"

"Yeah, I see them," I replied, staring at Bex and Grant as they walked with their arms around each other like any other couple in the vast mall. Although they were both thirty, they could pass for six or seven years younger. "I'm going in. Clear."

Turning off my comms unit, I entered Starbucks looking like any average ten year old boy in a hoodie, my heart hammering in my chest. It felt so loud that I was sure everyone could hear it. Both Bex and Grant were experienced field agents. No ordinary girl would be able to go undetected into the same café as them without being compromised. But I was Morgan, daughter of the Chameleon and Zach Goode. I was no ordinary girl, and anyway, I loved doing things the hard way.

"Can I have a chocolate Frappuccino, please?" I asked the woman working here, keeping the corner of my eye trained on the 'Subjects'. They were settling down at the table nearest the counter, with their coffees, sitting opposite an old man. Immediately, I noticed (with the sharpness that Mom taught me) that if you stripped away the false wrinkles and grey beard, you had a man no older than forty.

I brought my money out of my pocket and purposefully dropped it. The money slid underneath the Subjects' table. Looking embarrassed, I hurriedly apologised and they stopped their conversation to smile tightly at me, as was expected. They wouldn't continue their conversation on ordering stun grenades right in front of a boy. As I fished around on my knees, I brought out the bug hidden in my pocket and fixed it onto the underside of the table. Finding the money, I hauled myself up again and smiled ruefully. Then I paid and left the shop with a Frappuccino in one hand and a small grin on my face that I couldn't help.

I turned on my comms and said, "It's done. Can you hear what they're saying?"

"Affirmative," Arianne said. "Now shut up and come over here so we can both listen in."

I ran towards the toilets, where Arianne was listening to her computer. People stared when I – a boy, mind you – walked straight past the line and bashed a fist on the door, demanding the person to open up. They were even more shocked and angered when Arianne actually opened the door and let me inside. I almost giggled at their expressions, but my friend reminded me that I had business to finish so I quickly shut up and plugged an earphone into my ear.

"– The money," a voice I recognised as Bex's was saying. "Count it if you like. It's all there."

For a moment, all we could hear was the sound of cash being flicked quickly (it was loud so the dealer must have been counting underneath the table), someone muttering under their breath and the muffled voices of the other Starbucks customers. Either Grant or Bex slurped at their coffee.

"See," Grant sounded smug. "We weren't lying. The money _is _all there."

Ignoring Grant's words, the dealer said, "When I have your twenty M84 stun grenades ready, I'll make a mark on the fourth tree from the south side of Bow Bridge in Central Park with the dead drop written on it."

"It's been nice doing business with you." Bex sounded like she was gathering up her stuff and three chairs scratched on the floor as the three stood up. Then her voice took a more threatening turn. "But remember, if you don't live up to your words, we'll hunt you down and make sure we get back every last dime."

Arianne and I both shivered. Flushing the toilet to drown out the sound of us talking, I asked, "What's a dead drop?"

"In spy terms, it's a secret location where the dealer will leave the stun grenades," Arianne explained. "The signpost (or in this case, the tree near Bow Bridge) marks when the 2nd person can go to the dead drop to collect the item or items. Our job is to intercept the signpost and get to the dead drop first."

"But you heard Bex," I mumbled nervously. "She'll get back every last dime. She probably won't leave him alive."

"It's his head, not ours." At my still hesitant expression, she sighed, "If it makes you feel any better, we can leave a note saying that anonymous people are stealing the M84 stun grenades."

I bit my lip in reluctance, but finally caved in. "This is the only way we can get the weapons we need. But if they don't believe the note and they go after his head, I will own up."

My friend and partner in crime nodded. "That seems fair enough. Now we have to split up. One of us has to watch the signpost to get the grenades. The other has to tail Abby, Solomon and Rachel for their appointment in one hour at another café, and also Smith, Dabney and Buckingham for their appointment two hours after in a French restaurant. Finally, Nick and Macey are meeting the mysterious Kat in one of Macey's clothing stores."

"I'll tail, and you tell me where to go through texts," I offered. "I can't pass up the opportunity to go to McHenry's."

**Macey's POV**

"This is a stupid meeting place," Nick scowled, staring at the array of women's clothing.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you calling my shop stupid?"

"No, I'm just saying that maybe we should have picked a restaurant to talk over dinner."

"You are such a guy." I rolled my eyes with a laugh and lowered my voice to mock a man's one. "Dude, every shopping minute is torture, except for lingerie shopping because I'm constantly sexually aroused and horny. Dude, shopping is only good for hitting on hot girls with cute butts, even though I've got a girlfriend. Dude, without the girls, the only thing shopping would do is ruin my manly musk."

"And you are such a girl," he replied, before going high pitched in a bad imitation of the average teenage girl. "OMG, that looks _gorgeous_. OMG, look at my nails. OMG, I just got this new fake tan that looks totally fake and orange. OMG, this shop is my life. OMG, now I have no life."

"That is _not _what a girl sounds like… unless they're on their period maybe," I added as an afterthought. "But that's not the point. The point is: restaurants are so overrated and everybody does it. I bet you every single appointment today in Operation Crushed Circle has been at a restaurant or café. We're being original."

"That's another thing about girls." Again, he slipped into the high squeal. "OMG, I have to be the first to do everything. OMG, I have to be a trendsetter. OMG, that girl _stole _my idea. OMG, she is such a bitch."

"And here's proof that my observations on guys are right." I held up a plain white bra and in the other I held a lacy black one. "Which one should I buy?"

"That one," Nick pointed at the lacy one in an instant.

"Exactly my point," I ginned smugly as Nick's eyes bugged out when he realised that he proved me right.

He shrugged. "I still think you should buy the black one."

"I'm not buying either of them," I said, putting both bras back. "I own these designs, which means I get the first of everything."

"So you've already got the black bra?" Nick asked lustfully.

Picking a random dress off the rack, I hit the back of his head with it playfully, and then noticed the dress on it. I frowned at it and crinkled my nose in dislike. "Who designed that dress?"

"You did?" Nick guessed.

"No, someone must have designed it while I was teaching at Gallagher. This is a disgrace to the McHenry name." With a lot of satisfaction, I ripped the dress of its hanger and tore it in half, then half again. Soon enough, it was in shreds and everyone in the shop had stopped to stare at me in horror.

"Excuse me," a woman working here said, bristling with quiet anger, "we're going to have to ask you to pay for that."

"You want me to pay for that piece of _shit_!" I exclaimed, half surprised, half outraged. I knew it sounded bratty, but when it came to fashion, I was more like the rebellious teenager I grew up as than the calm, clever agent I really was. It was like I automatically slipped into my drama queen cover.

The woman gasped incredulously. "Don't you _dare _criticise that work of artful genius! It was personally designed by Macey McHenry, as with the rest of the clothes in this shop. Do you even know who that is, you tasteless bitch?"

"Of course I do!" I spluttered. "But that dress wasn't even designed by Macey McHenry!"

Nick put a cool arm on my shoulder and whispered collectedly in my ear, "Calm it, Mace. We're not getting any closer to your dream of meetings in McHenry's by arguing with employees. We'll get kicked out and then we'll have to meet in an unoriginal café, remember? Or else you'll reveal your identity and you won't be able to have a secret meeting here anyway."

Slowly, the heat faded from my flushed cheeks and I calmed down. Glancing at the employee's nametag, I apologised, "Sorry for ripping it up, Jenna. I'll pay for the damage."

I had just finished paying up when I heard a familiar voice from behind me. "Well, well, look who got in a cat fight within two minutes of entering a shop."

"Hale?!" I spun around to face him. He looked the same as ever, the same golden skin tone aglow about him, the same light brown hair flopping over his forehead. The only thing that was different was the aged twinkle in his eyes.

"The one and only," he grinned, his arms open in a welcoming hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the employee's jaw had dropped open in appreciation of his hotness.

I accepted the hug gratefully. "It's been a long time, little brother."

"He's your little brother?" Nick tried to sound neutral, but the relief in his eyes made it visible that he had been jealous of Hale.

"We practically grew up together," I explained. "When we were little, our moms forced us to spend days together. I think they wanted us to fall in love and get married or something."

Hale laughed. "I remember how much of a geek you used to be. You spent all day building stuff and decoding encryptions."

I smiled evilly at him. "And I remember how much you loved to sneak around in the dark and scare people. You got really annoyed because I was never scared of you _or _the dark."

"You were scared of lightning and thunder though," he said.

"You were scared of my Barbie dolls."

"I'll have to add that to my list of embarrassing things about Hale's childhood," another voice came from behind us. "Hello, Macey. Hi, Nick."

"Kat," Nick greeted with a lopsided grin. With a pang of jealousy, I realised that smile was usually reserved only for me. They stepped into an embrace and I focused on breathing slowly and deeply.

"No need to get jealous, sis." I must have had some sort of conflicted expression on my face, because Hale was laughing. He put an arm around Kat's shoulders and continued, "This one's all mine. See?"

He held up Kat's hand and I blinked. On her finger was a huge diamond rock that looked so heavy that I was sure her whole hand would fall off. Hale's hand had a matching one.

Gulping slightly, I said, "Were they bought or stolen?"

"Bought," Kat replied. "We can't go parading around with stolen rings!"

"We stole the money to pay for them," Hale explained with a wink.

I smiled. "I should have expected that from you, Scooter."

"Scooter," Kat repeated, stifling a laugh. "You call him that too?"

I shrugged, "Family tradition, I guess. Do you want to know his real name or do you already know it from your wedding registration?"

"You know it?" Kat sounded surprised.

Hale slapped his hand over my mouth. "If you tell her my name, I'm out of whatever deal you have to offer."

"Which brings us down to business," Nick said. All of our faces sobered up.

**Two Days Later**

**Bex's POV**

It was the end of Operation Crushed Circle Preparation Day 3. Right now, we were waiting in Zach's suite (it had become our sort of HQ) for everyone to assemble. The last ones to get here were Nick, Macey who were meeting Kat. When I got a message from Macey saying that she was going for the car bomb tonight, we started without them.

"So what has happened so far?" Rachel asked.

Grant spoke. "Someone took some of the stun grenades before we did. They left a note for us."

I took out the note and continued for him. "It reads: _Don't blame the dealer. He did his job. We took your stun grenades. We left ten of them as proof that he delivered. Don't worry. We won't use it against you. _It's signed, _MA._"

"Who the hell could MA be?" Zach asked furiously, his eyes blazing. "We need those weapons. What's the handwriting like?"

"It's typed up," I groaned. "There are no fingerprints. Whoever's doing this, they're good."

"Well, we can't pursue this now," Solomon said. "We can go after them later, but right now, we need to concentrate on the Circle, even if this will come back and bite us in the" – he glanced at the innocent looking girls in the corner – "butt."

Abby nodded. "He has a point. We haven't got enough time. Order another ten stun grenades. How are the other teams getting on?"

"We've got ours successfully," Madame Dabney reported. I noticed Arianne shooting Morgan a questioning look and Morgan replying with a _talk-about-this-later _one. I would have demanded to know what this was all about, but my attention was focused on mainly on the rest of the adults. Whatever they were up to was undoubtedly less important

"So have we," Rachel added.

It turned out that everyone but Nick, Macey, Grant and I had their weapons successfully, because they met in person rather than using dead drops. I went pink at the thought of us failing when everyone else did so well, and even Grant blushed a bit, which I found really cute.

Zach concluded, "I think it's time for me to visit Cammie again."

**Cammie's POV**

It was at times like this that I felt glad that I could shut off most of my emotions when I wanted to. If it weren't for that injection, I'd be rolling around in my own guilt right now. But instead, I was getting that adrenaline rush of being a killer, of hearing his breathing slow and rasp, watching the life fading from his eyes. Although I still had _some _sentiment in me, I was channelling all that into one emotion – hate.

Ever since I 'returned' to the Circle, Joseph Cavan had been testing my ruthlessness to the limit. He sent me on more jobs than I ever did before. I was quicker, though. The tracker that he put in my arm when he thought I was asleep was taken out and stayed wherever I was supposed to be killing someone. After I killed the person _I _wanted, I'd go back to collect the tracker and put it back in my arm. I was fast enough to kill those he asked for _and _kill those I wanted in the time that he gave me.

This guy was one that I selected. Channing Cooper was a high ranked assassin in the Circle. He was always obnoxious and greedy, always looked down on me because he thought he was the better murderer. I guess now he was proved wrong. I was picking off assassins from the Circle on jobs who were reasonably high up in the hierarchy. They'd prove to be a huge pain if they were still alive during the carrying out of Operation Crushed Circle.

Channing Cooper was pain enough killing. He was suspicious of everybody, even new-born babies. I, the _Chameleon_, had a hard time following him. I almost got compromised three times. He also put up a huge fight when I cornered him in an alley. That only ended the way it did because I cheated and shot my gun.

With a sigh, I hoisted him onto my shoulder and almost staggered under his weight. I brought him over to a huge wheelie bin and dumped him inside of it. Letting a trickle of emotion seep into my mind, I thought: _Sorry you didn't get the funeral and coffin. Maybe someone will find you and do it for me. _After that, my emotions came back in floods. First was the horrible guilt of all those who were dead by my hand, then the livid anger at myself for feeling like that at a crucial time like this, and then the absolute hate I felt towards the Circle for forcing me to kill all over like this, and then the despair of how my emotions were as wild and unpredictable as the sea and how I had no control over it.

Of course, I could just go into killing mode. It was easier to handle. But now my conscience was entering my life again too. I wouldn't be able to stay in killing mode forever with that judgemental voice nagging me all the time.

The journey back to the Circle was a silent one. The pilot and co-pilot of the private helicopter sensed that I was in no mood to talk and were respectful and kind enough to back off, although I could clearly see that they were in awe of the legend that was me and they both wanted tips and autographs. They were so young, so reckless; just like I had been when I chose the Circle over the CIA. They didn't realise how wrong their decision had been, how all this killing would affect them someday, how everything would come flooding back.

Even the Killer Chameleon couldn't run and hide forever.

Once again, I walked the maze of the Circle's headquarters with familiarity. Before, the familiarity made me feel at ease, at home. Like it had been since I was a little girl, exploring secret passages and unknown corridors was a hobby and obsession of mine. It was probably the only thing in my life that stayed constant through my transition from girl to spy to murderess. I knew this place better than I knew how to shoot a gun. Most of the passageways here were bricked up, but there were still a few that had escaped the notice of Cavan. Zach probably got in through one of those few.

Now though, the familiarity was a sickening feeling in my stomach. It was just another sign of how much my life had veered off its path.

After I filled in my report on what happened (it was mostly filled with lies), I hurried to my bedroom. I went in and just completely collapsed onto my bed, trying my hardest not to cry. _There's nothing to worry about, _I tried to reassure myself. _You're getting your life back on track now. You're together with the love of your life again. You've got a beautiful daughter who's safe in New York and a bunch of reliable team of friends. And after the Circle's gone, you'll be done with killing for good._

There came a knock on the door. Hurriedly wiping away the lone tear which was running my face, I called, "Come in!"

Zach opened the door whispering, "It's me, my Gallagher Girlfriend."

"Talk about impeccable timing," I mumbled, gazing at him with wonder. "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Zach closed the door behind him, but before he had even turned around to face me again, I was pressing my lips on his, longing for the feel of his body against mine.

"Now _this _is the greeting I could wake up to every day," he said, not breaking the kiss.

"Who says I'll be waking up in the same bed as you every day?"

He stepped away from me so suddenly that I almost fell over. Walking backwards to the other side of the room, he gestured at his own body. "You know you want me."

I eyed his lips hungrily and lunged for him. "You get back here!"

He leapt out of the way in time and teased, "Only if you say you think I'm the sexiest man you've ever seen."

"Stop trying to take away my dignity," I groaned, going for another lunge.

He tutted, wagging his finger. "You could end all your trouble if only you admitted that I'm the sexiest man you've ever seen."

I folded my arms stubbornly. "Nothing that you do will make me have to beg you for a kiss. Why don't we get down to the plan? How many people are in? I'm assuming that you've got the supplies?"

"There are nineteen of us, including Liz. Dr Fibbs is still at Gallagher. And we've got most of the weapons, but someone stole the stun grenades from the dead drop. So someone has been spying on Bex and Grant. They must have been at the meeting."

I sucked in a breath. "They might be dangerous. They might even be a part of the Circle."

"No, I don't think so," Zach answered. "It doesn't add up. Why would the Circle take the stun grenades? They already have their own armoury. Taking our grenades would only reveal that they're after us."

I frowned in thought. "But who else could it be? Who else knows about us?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"Well, why don't you get Mr Moscowitz to look into it?" I suggested.

"Won't we need him to hack the Circle's security with Liz and Jonas?" Zach asked.

I shook my head. "We're not going for discreet. Attacking this base is only a decoy. The Circle's headquarters is hugely vast. We'd never destroy it with one car bomb. So we're going to aim for their evacuation place instead. When the top half of the organization evacuates the base, we'll drive the car through the disguised house's walls and blow it up. They'll never suspect it."

He nodded slowly, digesting it. "That's clever."

"But the way the car is designed to blow is through a door opening," I explained. "So we must have an agent strapped inside the car so that when it goes inside the house, someone will be sure to open it. I'm planning on that agent being our very own Mr Cavan."

Zach's grin grew and he pecked me on the lips. "I love the way you think."

"I love the way you are," I replied, feeling stupid after I said it. What a cliché thing to say. Hastily, I continued, "So we have to stop Cavan from getting away. He'll probably exit through his personal tunnel in his office. However, it only opens upon a fingerprint scan, so it is powered by electricity. Liz and Jonas have to override the system and shut down the fingerprint scanner."

"I'll remember to tell them that," he said. "Now I know the overall picture, let's go into details, like how we'll get into this base."

"Just before we do, can you tell me how our daughter is?" I asked with a faint smile.

He wrapped around my waist protectively. "She's as cute and stubborn as always. We've bonded; you'll be interested to know."

"You have?" I beamed proudly.

"We have," he smiled firmly. "I had to ban her from joining the rest of us on the mission though. That set us back a bit, but I think she has got over it. She seemed really happy today. I think she and Arianne were taken in by the sights of New York. They said that they went shopping on Fifth Avenue."

"It's good to know that she's having fun," I grinned wistfully, thinking back to my own innocent days.

"It is. And it's much better than letting her throw herself into danger," Zach agreed.

I sighed. "I guess we should get down to the details now."


	32. Chapter 32

**Just to clear up a couple of things.**

**Sorry if anyone wanted to see the heist with our cameos Kat and Hale. This is not a crossover, so I didn't want to get them too involved. Just know that the heist went successfully and Arianne and Morgan didn't steal this one.**

**That brings me onto my other point. Lots of you are wondering why they need so many weapons. Well, although both are genii, neither have had very much physical training. These kids are going to need all the weapons they can get.**

**Here's a slightly shorter chapter. Only 2 left! Love you all, J**

**Arianne's POV**

Things were getting tenser for Morgan and me. We had all decided to stay at the base of Operation Crushed Circle until Zach returned, but with nothing to do, people were starting to ask us about what we had been doing. Morgan was a skilled liar (she took after both of her parents), but I was the one who specialised in computers rather than field work. They would see through my lies in an instant.

It was becoming a sticky situation.

As Morgan was recapping on how we snuck past security and got up to the 102nd floor of the Empire State for free, I muttered something about needing the toilet and slipped away. When I finally got to the bathroom, I realised someone was inside on the phone. And being the nosy person that I am meant that I had to listen in. What call was so private that someone had to lock themselves in the bathroom to answer it? What call was so private that someone had to whisper, even after they've locked the bathroom door?

It was definitely a male voice. Thankfully, I always kept my invented magnified hearing device in my ear, so I could make out what the voice was saying, but the whispering meant that I couldn't determine who it was exactly. Everyone sounds the same when they whisper.

"They've got the car bomb. They're going to put their plan into action soon."

"Let them think that they've got the upper hand," another male voice replied. "We'll be ready. We'll capture them when they come. We will go to the evacuation area as supposed, but you will have already disabled the engine of the car."

"Are you going to tell the other board members about Operation Crushed Circle?"

"No," the voice on the phone answered. He was obviously the leader. "Those idiots would probably reignite the engine of the car bomb. That's how stupid they are. Are you clear on your role, agent?"

"Yes," Bathroom Guy replied. "I will disable the car bomb just before they try to use it. Then I will surround them when they realise it is not working."

"Good," the Phone Guy said emotionlessly. There was no affection in his voice. "But are you sure that the Killer Chameleon is in on this plan?"

"Yes," Bathroom Guy replied, clearly irritated. "She is the leader of the plan."

"But… Cameron sounded so genuine when she was killing Catherine with that anaesthetic…" Phone Guy said, sounding hesitant and regretful. "I just can't believe… she of all my agents would turn against the Circle… She's had one of the most colourful careers the Circle has ever seen… Surely she hasn't tricked me?"

"She has. Get over it," Bathroom Guy snapped. I could hear jealousy laced in his words. For some reason, he was envious of Morgan's mother.

Phone Guy sounded threatening. "That is no way to speak to me, agent."

"Sorry, sir," Bathroom Guy backtracked, sounding terrified.

Phone Guy sounded victorious, "Thank you. And call me Joseph."

Joseph? Joseph who? Was he Joseph Cavan or Joseph Solomon? I quickly glanced out at the other room and there was Solomon, laughing with Abby and Rachel. He was definitely not on the phone. That meant whoever was inside the bathroom was probably talking to Joseph Cavan, leader of our enemy.

So there was a mole in Operation Crushed Circle. How could there be? Everyone in this plan was trusted and sworn to secrecy. Everyone was a personal friend of ours.

I searched the two-room suite to see who was out here. By the process of elimination, I could work out who was inside the bathroom. I only needed to look at the men after all. Or I could wait to see who walked out of the bathroom

"Arianne, we have to go," Dad appeared in front of me. It was a relief to know that he was not the mole, but what he was saying was not good.

I frowned, trying to listen to the rest of the phone conversation at the same time as talking to him. "We can't go."

"And why is that, honey?" he asked.

I considered telling him about the double agent, but soon enough, I realised that whatever I told him would get back to whomever he was, which would lead to a change in Cavan's plan. I had to work to the advantage of secretly knowing. So I just smiled and said, "What if Zach comes back early?"

"Someone could always call me and we'd be right back, Ari," he grinned as though I was the cutest thing in the world.

I looked back desperately at the bathroom door.

Knowing that I was still unconvinced, he tried to play the guilt card. It always worked with me. "Ari, _please _come to this Japanese restaurant with me. But I've had this reservation at Masa for months now. It's only got twenty six seats and I booked for you, me, Bex and your mother to go. Since your mom's at the hospital and none of the others want to leave the Pearl, I've decided to bring your friend along too. And now we're late. The restaurant called me to say if we're not there in ten minutes, we'll lose our places."

I bit my lip, but finally nodded. _Damn my good conscience and my love of Japanese food, _I thought.

He smiled with victory and dragged Morgan and me towards the front door. I cast one more glance towards the bathroom door. Someone was stepping out of it, but he was already out of sight by the time I could see his face.

I made a mental note to tell Morgan as soon as we had some privacy.

**Morgan's POV**

The door to the toilet slammed shut and the lock clicked. Then Arianne turned around to face me, with panic in her eyes.

I knew what she was going to say. So I answered for her. "If this is about why I didn't take the other weapons, I've got an explanation." She tried to say something, but I butted across. "A) The others didn't use dead drops. B) The dealers were perfectly fine doing business with a child, as long as they get their money. They aren't exactly what you would call noble." Again, she tried to input, but again I continued relentlessly. "And C) We couldn't risk more suspicion with the adults. We don't want them to start concentrating more on the mysterious MA than the actual plan."

"It's good to know your reasons, but I didn't interrupt our tasty Japanese lunch to ask you about that," she said finally. "There's a" –

We turned around and pretended to wash our hands as a random woman entered the bathroom. When she left, Morgan continued, "There's a mole in Operation Crushed Circle, Morgan."

"That's terrible," I said.

"It is," she agreed. "But don't tell anyone because the mole will hear about it and that will change everything. Now, our priority is not to join in with the others. We'll do that too, but we have to concentrate on foiling the mole and Joseph Cavan's plans."

"Joseph Cavan?" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Ew, I don't like him. He was always staring at me like I was a developing experiment because I was the only kid there. He stank of rotten eggs too. It was gross. How is he important?"

She gaped at me. "He's the head of the Circle."

"I thought that is my grandmother," I frowned.

"What?" She looked confused until she realised that I meant Catherine, not Rachel. "Oh…" She looked at her feet. "There's probably something you should know about Catherine…"

"Shoot," I said excitedly. Any news about Grandma was news I wanted to hear.

"She's dead," she mumbled.

Except that news.

"WHAT?!" I exploded.

Arianne looked incredibly uncomfortable. "She died a few days ago. It was a painless death. At least, I think anaesthetic is a painless death. It would have been quick."

"I don't care how quick or painless it was," I snapped. "That doesn't change the fact that she's never coming back! Who killed her? I'm going to hunt down them and their whole family."

Arianne bit her lip, looking terrified of me. "It was you mother."

"My _mom _killed my grandmother?" I gasped. "But she wouldn't do that!"

"I'm sure she had good reason," Arianne suggested nervously.

"Yeah right," I said sarcastically, kicking the door open to return to the food. It was delicious, after all, and right now it was the only thing I could think of that would take my mind off the way Mom killed Grandma.

That changed when I saw Zach sitting next to Jonas. I thought that they weren't great friends, but apparently being daddies suddenly made them all buddy, buddy again because they were both laughing.

"Did you know?" I hissed at my father as I sat down.

Dad looked at me with adoration. "Did I know what, Mor?"

"That your mother's dead," I said with venom, "killed by my mom."

His eyes widened slightly. "How did you know that?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Word travels fast. Did you know?"

"Yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "I found out the first time I visited Cammie at the Circle."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed. "You already wanted to join us in Operation Crushed Circle, and this would just make you want to join more. And I didn't want you be too upset."

I bristled. "What about you? Don't you feel anything for your mother?"

"No," he said honestly. "She was just the woman who brought me into this world. She stopped being motherly by the time I was five years old. She became another one of the Circle members."

"But she was motherly to my mom and to me! Why did Mom kill her?"

Again, he defended Cammie. "She had no choice. She couldn't get into the Circle otherwise. Catherine was being tortured anyway and your mother wanted to save her from any more pain. Don't assume that your mother didn't care. You weren't there when I held her as she cried her heart out. And no doubt she cried a lot more when I wasn't there. She's putting on a brave face for you and everyone else, but really, she's as broken as you are. Put yourself in Cammie's shoes. Would you do anything different?"

I thought about it and reluctantly said, "No. But she's still gone and it has to be someone's fault."

"Then it is Cavan's fault," Zach said. "He was the one torturing her. He was the one who forced Cammie to kill your grandmother."

"You're right," I mumbled, feeling numb.

Jonas spoke up. "I'm not trying to be insensitive or anything, but are you going to finish your food?"

**2 Days Later**

**Cammie's POV**

Zach opened the door. This was the third and final time we'd meet in my bedroom before Operation Crushed Circle will spur into action and I felt that hanging over us as I greeted him with a kiss, as I had done in the others. The difference, though, was that last time it was a '_you're finally here, I love you and I've missed you' _kiss. This one was all that, but also _'this might be the last time we ever kiss because we might die tomorrow'._

"Cammie, stop," he said breathlessly.

"Not this again," I rolled my eyes. "If you want me to say you're sexy, I've thought about it and it's true. I, Cameron Morgan, think that you, Zachary Goode, are the sexiest man I've ever seen. I'm not ashamed of admitting it."

He smiled. "I knew you'd come around. I am Zach Goode, after all. But I don't want to talk about that. I can't… I can't kiss you when I don't know what you feel as we do. You've had that injection. So what is this to you? Is it like kissing me through a glass wall? Or do you not feel anything at all?"

"Of course I do," I said earnestly, sitting down on the bed. The moment of passion was already over. "Without therapy, the injection is a lot weaker. I can turn off my emotions if I want to, yes, but most of the time, they're still there."

"Are they the same though? Are they as strong as they were before you left?" He sat down on the bed, next to me, and stared down at his hands. "Have I been giving you more love than you've returned?"

I didn't know how to answer. What I felt was strong, surely? It seemed legitimate enough to me. But how could I measure love? It wasn't like I could pour it into a flask and analyse it. Perhaps I was more in love last time. But I was still giving it all I could. That counted for something, right?

"Well?" he prompted, looking like he was taking my speechlessness badly.

I decided to answer his question with a question of my own. "What suddenly made you ask?"

"I've never thought about it before, because I'm so in love," he explained, before he held up a flask of murky solution in it. "But then this came and I started wondering."

I frowned curiously at the liquid. "What is it?"

"It's your cure, Cammie," he smiled weakly. "I stopped at Gallagher on my way here. Dr Fibbs gave it to you. He said he hasn't proven it to be successful yet, but he knew you'd want to have the choice of taking it now as a risk or later when you're sure."

"Of course I'll take it now," I tried to grab at it.

Zach pulled it away. "You need to answer my questions."

"I don't know," I said honestly. "It feels real to me, but I've been like this for so long that I wouldn't know any better. When I left, I tried to push all the good things about you and our relationship. I chose to remember only how the relationship ended. Now when I look back, I can still remember every moment – but as little more than an onlooker. I remember the feelings, but not the intensity of it."

"But you still remember, right?" Zach looked shocked.

I nodded. "I didn't have amnesia, Zach. I was just a broken-hearted girl who wanted to forget."

"Thanks for being honest with me," Zach smiled, handing over the small vial. "Now, Dr Fibbs said to take one sip of it every one hour until" –

He stared as I swallowed the whole thing down in one gulp. I looked at him apologetically. "Sorry. I just couldn't wait. Patience isn't one of my virtues."

Still in astonishment, Zach mumbled, "That's okay. But the emotions will come back a lot faster."

"I can handle that," I shrugged. "It's what I wanted, right?"

"It's not that," he said anxiously. "It's just the feelings are going to come back in one huge tsunami washing over you. All of them will return at once."

"That's good, remember?" I smiled widely. "I'll love you and hate the Circle more."

He shook his head earnestly. "The Cammie I first fell in love was the most selfless girl I knew. She'd never kill anybody, even if she was held at gunpoint to do it. So all that guilt bottled inside of you will burst out. You may want to commit suicide."

I breathed deeply, but looked into his eyes gravely. "I won't let that happen while you're here – not when this may be the last time we're ever alone together, not when the plan is going to take place so soon. I'm experienced in pushing feelings away and focusing on a sole one. I can turn everything into my love for you and for my daughter. By now, we have just over one and a half hours until you must go. Let's use it to show our love one last time."

Zach and I didn't hesitate. Our lips collided together; those lips that had been familiar to me eleven years ago and those lips that were familiar to me now. Pressed together and breathing each other through our lips, we collapsed onto the bed. If we died tomorrow, we wanted to take this last furious flurry of passion down to our graves.


	33. Chapter 33

**Wow. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. So excited! Anyway, I planned for everything to be in this chapter, but there was so much to write about that I couldn't cram it in. So there's an extra chapter, and then the epilogue that I planned. Also, special shout-out to** sugar-spice00 **who has a birthday on August 21st! Happy Birthday! Disclaimer: disclaimed. Do I have to say any more? J**

**Macey's POV**

"What?" I raised an eyebrow bluntly at Townsend, who had been staring at me for the past few seconds as we made our way through the muddy tunnel.

He blinked, as though surprised that he had been caught watching me. "It's just that… you own a huge fashion business all over the world."

"What's your point?" Was he making fun of me?

"Shouldn't you be – I don't know – squealing about the dirt in this tunnel or something?"

I scowled. "If I was that sort of person, I would have quit the CIA a _long _time ago. You can't presume that just because I love clothes, I have to be obsessed with make-up and nails. Clothes are art. Appearance is just something to get guys' attention."

"I'll never fully understand the complex maze of a woman's brain," Townsend shook his head thoughtfully.

I explained, "To cut it short, designing is to me what painting or cloud watching is to some people. But I could live without it. As long as my Nick loves me, someone could shave me bald and ban me from every clothes shop in the world for all I care."

Abby glanced at us both. "We're almost at the dungeons and they'll definitely suspect something if they hear two people talking about make-up and hair. I'm pretty sure that is not what prisoners talk about. Actually, I'm pretty sure prisoners talk much at all. So shut up, the both of you."

We both did as we were told. It would be stupid to get compromised after all of Cammie and Zach's planning – especially after trekking through miles in a dark, muddy, narrow tunnel. Because despite what I said on not caring about appearance, I'd rather the trip be worth the filthy nails and disgusting hair. Call me a hypocrite, but I don't really care. I've been called worse.

"Look," Smith pointed at a lever, mostly concealed under more dirt. He dug it out with his fingers. Evidently, _his _nails didn't mean much to him – not that it meant much to me either…

Once the lever was pulled, the bricks silently slid towards us and open, rather like the automatic doors of a train. Abby and Townsend shared a glance of understanding. It was clear that after all those years of partnership; they were completely at ease with each other. And it was also clear that something significant had changed between them, because they hastily looked away from each other as soon as they realised what they were doing.

_Interesting, _the relationship-mastermind in me thought. _Remember to ask Abby for details later._

Professor Smith knew nothing and simply clambered through the hold in the wall, being careful to shoot at the three hidden cameras before he came into view. We all filed into the cell. Before I was even aware that there was someone in here, Abby had her hand clamped around the girl's mouth and was hissing, "If you scream, kiss your escape goodbye."

Then Abby paused and inspected the girl's face more thoroughly. She removed the hand slowly, blinking in shock. "Tina…"

I understood her reaction. Professor Smith and Townsend were acting similarly. Once, we would have hugged her and sobbed about how terrible being in torture must have been for her. We had long forgiven her for sleeping with Zach. We had assumed that she saw him drunk and escorted him safely home; then Zach pounced on her (and she didn't complain in the heat of sex). We had assumed wrong. Zach told us that Tina had drugged him. To purposefully try and stab Cammie's heart was a whole new level.

And so the rest of my unit were speechless, torn between sympathy and anger.

I didn't have that problem. My hand enclosed around her neck and I shoved her at the wall. My grasp wasn't tight enough to cut off the oxygen and knock her out or kill her, but tight enough to hurt and get the message across.

"Listen up, Walters," I growled. "If you ever pull anything like what you did to Zach _ever _again, you'll find me in prison for murder and you six feet under. Get it?"

She nodded pathetically. But it wasn't like the terrified kind of pathetic. It was more like an _I'm-truly-sorry-and-I-hate-myself-for-what-I-did _kind of pathetic. "I'm not the gossipy girl I once was Macey. What I did has been eating at me for years. I would never put me or anyone else through any more pain at my hand. Most of the time I tried to ignore how I had made Cammie disappear and Zach go forever heartbroken, but there were times when I had the knife ready at my wrist."

I blinked in horrified awe. "You wanted to _kill _yourself?"

She nodded miserably. "I couldn't tell Zach. There were times when I almost braved it but I've always been a chicken. So I was going to wait until I could tell Cammie. I knew that she would understand better. I contacted my old gossip informants and they went searching for her. I waited for years, until they told me it was useless.

"But still, I kept looking. And then at Bex and Grant's wedding, there she was at the back of the room. I saw her slipping out of the door. I followed her down here. And then I got caught. It was only until a few days ago (although I might have lost track of time down here) that I saw her and told her. It just made everything even worse. She screamed at me."

It was clear that she was struggling to hold back tears, but her voice sounded steady enough to continue. "So you can leave me here if you want. I deserve it."

My face softened and I released my grip on her neck. I offered her a hand to pull her up after she slid to the ground. "This isn't forgiving you. But you've already got enough punishment. And we graduated in the same Gallagher class. We're sisters and sisters fight and argue, but they always forgive each other in the end. I'll forgive you one day, as will Cammie. "

Her eyes watered up more when I said that and she accepted my hand. "Thank you, Macey."

"Here is some food," Townsend said, handing her a small package. "Eat it on your way through the tunnel. You'll find one truck waiting there. After the rest of the prisoners get there, I want you to get in that truck and drive to the Washington branch of the CIA – the old headquarters."

Using some extra explosives that we had, we blew down the door. We ran out of the prison cell and instantly found some agents guarding the rest of the cells. Soon enough we had them all on the floor, dead or unconscious. But we knew we still had to work quickly. The Circle had certainly seen that and reinforcements would be coming any moment.

"Edward? Ed?" Abby sounded frantic. He was propped up against the wall. We rushed to see him, expecting the worst, but he didn't seem to be dying.

"That bloody coward couldn't kill me properly," he scowled. His British accent was barely noticeable, but it was still there. "I'm fine, Abby. He just shot me three times in the leg."

"And your shoulder, idiot," Abby tore off his shirt. She seemed unfazed by the deep-set abs on his chest, though I suspected that was because she'd seen it before in a bedroom at night. She hurriedly dabbed at the wound as she snapped at us, "Go free the prisoners and tell them the way out. I'll handle this."

Once we were finished with our task, we returned to our friend on the floor.

"Abby, there's no need to be scared," Townsend breathed, though it sounded forced and laboured.

Abby's face was streaked with tears. "No, I won't let you. You can't. You _can't_!"

"Can't do what?" I asked.

She turned to me in surprise, like she only just realised I was there. "He wants to… to…"

Townsend finished for her, "Make you carry on without me."

"What happened?" I asked. Immediately afterwards I felt stupid for asking. Obviously, he had been shot – that's what happened.

Townsend explained, "Someone was going to shoot her. And I already had a shoulder wound, so I decided that one person with all the injuries is better than two people sharing it out. I jumped in front of her. And now you have to leave me before the next unit of guards come."

"No, no, no, no, no," Abby repeated, as though repeating it over and over would stop it from happening. She turned to me and Smith. "Tell him that he's being stupid!"

Before I could say anything, Townsend reached into his belt and pulled out a gun. He held it to his own head. "Go, or I'll kill myself. Then I'll have no chance of survival _at all._"

Abby was stubborn. "I won't let you do this, Edward."

"Move," he said firmly. "I'm giving you twenty more seconds to go."

I was the first to back away, dragging Smith with me. "We have to go, Abby."

"He's bluffing," she said, staring into the man's eyes confidently.

Townsend's voice was steady as he replied, "I'm not bluffing. Please Abby, just go."

"No." Abby's voice was quiet, but intense.

"Seven," Townsend counted, sounding pained, "six, five, four."

Uncertainty flickered across Abby's features.

"Three," Townsend continued relentlessly, "two."

"Alright," Abby blurted. "But promise me you'll try to get through the tunnel."

He shook his head. "That would never work. The Circle will see the tunnel and find me inside. And even if I am fast enough to get through it, the truck will already have left."

"At least try," Abby insisted. The fire in her eyes seemed frantic and desperate. "Promise me, Edward."

"Fine, I promise," Townsend sighed. We could tell that he didn't think he'd survive.

Abby blinked away tears. "Good. And Edward… just know that I made a mistake. I love you and I never should have let you go."

"I know," he smiled weakly at her. "And I lied. I never stopped loving you either."

"Goodbye, Edward." Abby leant down and cupping his face with both hands, she gave him one last lingering kiss. Then we ran.

**Bex's POV**

Everyone in the Beta Unit – Rachel, Nick, Dr Fibbs and me – fixed our oxygen masks and chemical-resistant goggles over our heads. Then at my nod, each of us threw a smoke grenade at the guards at the armoury. The grenades exploded with violet smoke. We ran towards the door at full speed, taking advantage of the guard's confusion and blindness. Our goggles detected body heat too, so we managed to avoid the guards.

"Here," Dr Fibbs' voice came from in the smoke. As we neared him, we could see the fingerprint scanner fixed into the wall. "Who has the fingerprint?"

Rachel handed him the fingerprint of Catherine Goode. Cammie had obtained it after her first meeting with Zach because she knew that the only way to get into the armoury was with a fingerprint. That fingerprint couldn't be just anybody's. It had to be the fingerprint of a board member, or the level just below. Sadly, Cammie's role was just beneath that, so we couldn't use hers.

As Dr Fibbs and Rachel handled the fingerprint, Nick and I shot at all the Circle's members while they couldn't see.

I was just about to shoot more, when I realised I was aiming at two figures whose body heat shape suggested they were much shorter than the rest. My thoughts immediately flew to Morgan and Arianne. Shocked, I blinked.

They were gone.

It must have been my imagination.

"We're through," Dr Fibbs shouted. We all ran into the armoury and shut the door before too much of the smoke could enter it. I looked around. It was a large room, with weapons shelved all the way up to the ceiling. I gasped. I had never seen so many weapons gathered in one place.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nick collapse onto the floor. He was clutching his chest and breathing painfully. Blood was seeping through his hands.

"Nick!" I yelled, running to his side. The only thing I could think about was how upset Macey was going to be if he died. I couldn't let that happen.

"It's too late," Nick whispered. "I'm going to die."

"No, you're not," I said reassuringly.

He shook his head. "Tell Macey…"

I expected him to say the words 'I love her', but he didn't.

He only whispered, "I'm sorry." That was his last breath.

**Cammie's POV**

"Wise Guy, it's your turn," I whispered into my comms unit. I heard a thudding bang of a stun grenade from a few corridors down and knew that Solomon had done his job well. Rounds of bullets followed, which I hoped were Zach and Solomon's rather than the Circle's. Almost all of the guards in this corridor left to see what the commotion was. The few left were the cleverer ones.

"Agent Morgan," one of the two guards acknowledged my presence at the door Joseph Cavan's office. I recognised him to be Agent Russell, a young member of the Circle who I had coached through training last year when I wanted to try teaching. He was a nice kid, who just liked to impress his superiors. He never should have got caught up in this business.

I smiled at him. "Are you going to let me in, Russell?"

"No," he replied apologetically, standing straighter when he realised that I still remembered his name. "Mr Cavan gave me direct orders."

I raised one of my silenced guns and aimed it at his head, feeling guilty. I was the one who saw him through his Circle training and it seemed ironic that I'd be the one who could potentially kill him. "Would you like to reconsider, Russell?"

Another guard in the corridor pointed her own gun at me. She was Agent Forbes, another one of my students. I didn't recognise the last one, who pointed his gun soon after. I had expected nothing less, which is why I had instructed Zach and Solomon to be close by when it happened. They stepped out from behind the corner and raised a gun each.

"You shoot me, they shoot you," I told the other guards, before turning back to Russell. "Don't even think about trying anything funny. Even if I got shot in the head, I can still shoot you before I die."

The look of betrayal on his face was touching. "But… why are you working with those CIA spawn? You can't be a double agent. You're the best killer out there."

"Things change," I shrugged. "People die. Sometimes you have to reconsider your options and your conscience – especially if you've got a kid. You try having a baby. You'd understand. Now, you're going to let us in there with no fuss."

Russell nodded, dazed, and swiped his key card into the slot. The mechanical door slid open and Zach, Solomon and I stepped into the office. Cavan was writing something at his neat desk. We aimed our guns at his head.

"Take off all your weapons, then I want both hands above your head, Cavan," I instructed coldly.

"You're early." Cavan glanced up at us. He stood up and began methodically removing all his weapons, but ignored the hands above the head part. Solomon moved forward to pat Cavan down and told us that Cavan was clean.

Suddenly, Cavan called to someone else outside the office, "Hey, you! Come in here!"

The three guards hurried into the office, each assuming he meant them. Seeing our guns pointed at Cavan, they aimed their guns at us.

"There were only three guards? Did they all fall for that silly diversion? Wow, I could swear this world is getting more and more stupid," he muttered.

My voice was steady and clear. "If you think that I won't dare to kill you at the risk of my life, you're wrong, Cavan – not only because my plan is not to kill you yet. You see, I don't care what happens to me. I'll shoot you at the cost of my own life. Besides, we all know that I can take out all three of these guards before they get the chance to shoot me."

"I know your foolish bravery perfectly, Cameron, and the way you couldn't care less about your own welfare. That was not what I was going for." Then he pointed at Russell and Forbes. "You two, go and get more guards – and close the door behind you." He pointed at the mysterious person I didn't know. "You, stay."

The two guards left, looking uncertain and the last one stood with a terrified expression in the middle of the room. He couldn't have been older than eighteen, so I guessed that he was one of the Blackthorn initiates. This one was especially young though. Most Blackthorn initiates would be in training right now, but this one was already working. He must've been exceptionally good at his job or else he was one of the few who grew up in the Circle's environment.

Cavan gestured for him to move closer and the agent complied silently. The way he walked was so clumsy and uncoordinated that it was a wonder that he was an agent at all. Definitely one of the special few 'Circle children'. When the boy was standing petrified next to the Circle's leader, Cavan laid a heavy hand on the shoulder furthest from him.

"My patience is wearing thin, Joseph," I declared with even more conviction. "Hands on your head."

He ignored my order. With one movement, he swept up the knife lying on his desk (disguised as a ruler) and held it at the young agent's neck. "Put your guns down or say goodbye to this friend of yours."

I laughed. "I think you got the wrong person. I taught Russell and Forbes, but I don't know this guy at all."

"I think you do," Cavan smiled evilly. Then he looked at the quivering guard and said, "Do you want to tell them your little secret or shall I, sweetie?"

"Sweetie?" I started with a laugh. "I never thought I'd hear _you _say" –

I stopped abruptly as the guard pulled up their trousers to reveal stilts where the feet should have been. That explained the clumsiness. I stared up at the guard's face as he reached for his forehead and peeled off a face mask to expose the person who should be lounging in New York.

"MORGAN?!" I yelled simultaneously with Zach.

The girl removed her stilts and smiled at us both guiltily, "Sorry."

"SORRY!" I screamed. "_SORRY!_ THAT'S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ME, YOUNG LADY?!"

Cavan interrupted my rant. "Alright, I know what you're going to say. 'You're such a bad kid, blah, blah, blah, you're grounded for life, blah, blah.' I've heard these parenting rants before and I'm sure Morgan has too. We get it. You've got anger issues. Now I want it to be my turn. Guns down, or she dies."

Zach and I lowered our guns immediately, but Solomon (too our shock) kept his gun raised high at Cavan's head. He was confident when he claimed, "You're bluffing. You don't kill babies. Or children."

"How do you know that?" Zach sounded panicked. "For all we know, he could kill kids before breakfast!"

Solomon looked uncomfortable. "I just… know."

Cavan's smile widened and looked like he was enjoying this far too much. "Oh, little cousin! You haven't told them?"

My jaw dropped open. "Did you… did you just call him your _cousin_?"

**Arianne's POV**

I walked along the corridor, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. Operation Crushed Circle was the most dangerous thing I had ever done in my life. I rounded a corner.

"Townsend?" I stared down at the British man who was clutching his shoulder in pain. He was trying to drag himself down the corridor.

He looked up at me, and his face registered surprise. "Arianne? What are you doing here, kid? You're supposed to be in New York!"

"Well, I'm not," I shrugged. "Deal with it. I'm going to the toilets. Do you want my help or not?"

He smiled gratefully as I hoisted his good arm over my shoulder and shared some of the weight. We made our way through the Circle's base as quickly as we could, though it wasn't fast at all. But we were lucky. We only encountered two Circle agents on our way to the bathroom.

He groaned when we came to the toilet, and I thought it was out of pain until he spoke. "Does it _have _to be the women's toilet?"

"Aw Uncle Townsend, scared of a little feminism, are you?" I grinned at my older companion.

Townsend went defensive straight away. "Not scared. It's just that I have never been in a women's bathroom before. It's unmanly."

"Sexist or not, the Circle is more than 60% male. There is a smaller chance of us getting caught in here than in the men's toilet."

"Fine," Townsend scowled and allowed me to haul him into the bathroom. I pulled him into a cubicle with me and brought a laptop out of my bag, which I placed on the closed lid of the toilet. I told Townsend to tend to his wounds while I was on the laptop. Submersing myself in the language of codes and computers, I began furiously tapping at keys on the computer.

"Arianne," a voice brought me back into the physical world, "is that _Liz's _computer that you're hacking into?"

"Why yes, it is," I answered, though my voice was a bit distant. Most of my concentration was focused on the screen in front of me.

He laughed. "That's impossible. Liz's computer is unhackable."

"People called the Titanic unsinkable, until it sank," I pointed out. "A cruel analogy, but a very true one. You see, if I tried to override her whole computer, I would fail. But by only overriding a small part of it and making it seem like nothing changed, it might work. And disabling the fingerprint scanner of Cavan's escape hatch is only a small part of what Mom is doing right now. She won't notice if I feed her computer some fake codes and turn the real fingerprint scanner back on."

Townsend slammed my laptop shut. "No. You already stabbed the rule book when you came down to Virginia, and I was stupid enough to keep quiet. But this? Giving Cavan the option to escape through that hatch? That's going directly against your own mother and all of these friends that you've known your entire life. It's wrong, and I won't let anyone foil the whole plan."

"Don't worry, that's already happened," I muttered, but at his confused expression, I simply said, "Look, I'm not ruining the plan. And if you refuse to believe that, I've got a tranquiliser dart."

He frowned. "I've known you for a long time, kiddo. You're not going to shoot me anytime soon, even if it's a harmless tranquiliser dart."

"I will," my voice shook. "I will."

"I'm contacting the others," he continued relentlessly. He pressed a button on the device in his ear to turn it on. I heard Abby sounding amazed and hopeful when she asked Townsend if he was there.

Townsend didn't get the chance to speak. I shot him with the dart gun.

**Solomon's POV**

"I'm guessing that he hasn't told you then," Cavan shook his head in disappointment. He clasped a hand over his heart dramatically. "I am so hurt."

"You two are cousins?" Cammie spun around to glare at me, half-shocked, half-angered. The betrayed look on her face was forced a small knot in my stomach to tighten. She was a daughter in my eyes. "How could you keep this from me, Joe?"

I looked at her uncomfortably. "It's not exactly something that I'm proud of."

"But you were my father's _best friend_," she accused. The quiet level of her voice just made it worse. "You were my godfather. I should've known something as big as this. Did my mom and dad know?"

"They both did. Your mother knew first, but that was because I met her first," I explained.

"Ah, yes," Cavan nodded. "Rachel. She was a nice girl, wasn't she? I remember her friend too. Grace? Pretty face, deep advice? Ring a bell?"

I glared at him. "We may be blood relatives, _cousin,_ but that doesn't change the fact that I hate you."

A flicker of something like regret flashed across my cousin's face and I felt gratified that he felt _something _at my words. I remembered how we used to be, and how different we were now. It was sad to think about how much we had changed.

_*Flashback*_

_Nine-year-old Joey and I snickered as we clambered inside a wardrobe to hide. Joey was Cavan's nickname and Joe was mine. We had to have _some _way to make the difference between the two young Josephs in the Circle. Joey was my cousin – my mother's sister's son – and both of our mothers wanted to show their faith to the Circle by naming us after Ioseph Cavan… although apparently they weren't all _that _faithful, because they refused to call us something that was as old fashioned as Ioseph._

"_Five, four, three, two, one," we chanted with huge grins. There was 'boom' sound from one of the bathrooms, right on time. We high-fived. Anyone in the toilets would find themselves splattered over with paint right now. Of course, we'd get in trouble for the prank, but it would be worth it._

_The door to the wardrobe opened to reveal a girl with both hands on her hips. She was Joey's younger sister, Charlotte. "Is your being in my wardrobe anything to do with the explosion?"_

"_No," we said simultaneously, and then looked at each other._

"_Get out of my clothes," she rolled her eyes._

_*New Flashback*_

_Joey and I were now thirteen years old and attending Blackthorne Institute. Charlotte, being one year younger, was twelve and she had started at Gallagher Academy, a few miles south in Roseville. It was spring break and she brought three of her new friends and roommates to the Circle's evacuation house to visit, pretending that it was our real home. Her three friends seemed nice enough to me, and pretty too. They names were Grace, Rachel and Catherine. We had a friend of our own from Blackthorne – Matthew._

_Now, after spending hours chasing each other in the midst of corn crops, we were lying down by the deserted road, staring up at the sky. Later in life, I would have regretted this moment, because it was one of my less manly moments, but at that moment I didn't really care. I had everything I wanted, right here, right now._

"_I still can't believe your dad let you go to Gallagher," I said to Charlotte, interrupting the cloud watching game that the girls were playing. "He hates it. I mean, the name alone…"_

_I trailed off as Charlotte shot me a sharp look, as if to say: Do _not _blow our cover; they don't know who we are. But instead of saying that aloud, she just said, "It's not like there's any better girl spy school anywhere else."_

"_That's so true," Rachel agreed. "Gallagher is an amazing school. I hope my sister Abby will get into it. Most of all, I hope that I will grow up to be one of the best CIA agents ever."_

"_Me too," Charlotte murmured. When I looked at her, I could tell she was genuine. She really did wish she wouldn't have to be a killer when we grew up."_

"_I don't know, being a killer would be just as cool," Catherine joked, grinning mischievously. She didn't notice the way Charlotte, Joey and I tensed slightly. We'd grow up to be killers, whether we liked it or not. It was our duty. Our paths had already been made for us, from the day we were born._

"_I don't think so," Grace frowned slightly as she dreamily watched a cloud float over us. I thought that she was already pretty, although she was slightly shorter. While the others still looked cute, she looked beautiful. As I watched her, I barely noticed her speaking. "Killing is wrong. I wouldn't do it, even if it was self-defence. When I'm older, I'll use a dart gun as my weapon, if I need a weapon at all."_

"_What if," I chose my words carefully, "you had no choice at all? What if you _had _to kill?"_

_She thought about it for a moment. "I don't see that ever happening. A person always has a choice."_

"_Not always," I argued. "What if you had a duty to others? What if your friends and family were expecting you to be a killer?"_

_Charlotte and Joey both sucked in their breaths, but yet again, Rachel, Cathy, Matt and Grace were oblivious._

"_Then those people aren't worth being your friends and family," Grace answered. "Friends and family should accept a person for whoever they want to be. Even if that person wants to kill."_

"_This conversation is getting seriously deep," Cathy commented._

_Rachel laughed. "We're watching clouds – this is a good time for deep conversations. You're just too shallow to get into it."_

"_I think shallow is good," Matt said. "Deep is why Plato was socially unstable."_

"_How do you know he was socially unstable?" Rachel continued their playful banter. "Unless you were born over two thousand years ago in Athens, I'm pretty sure you don't know how many friends he had at school."_

"_Only geeks know when Plato was born," Matt said. "And how do you know I'm not an over two thousand year old Athenian?"_

_Rachel retorted, "Only dumbass jocks would think about Plato's social status at school. And you have no inner geek. You can't possibly be Ancient Greek."_

"_Actually," Catherine added, "the Ancient Greeks were good at war too. He could be a two thousand year old soldier."_

_Rachel threw her hands up in the air. "You two are ganging up against me!"_

_I ignored them all and continued to talk to Grace. "What if someone told you to kill someone as they held a gun to your best friend's head?"_

_Grace lips parted, like for the first time, she was unsure. After some thinking, she smiled and tilted her head to the side to face me. "Then I'd kill myself so I don't need to kill either of them."_

"_That's… noble," I blinked and then smiled warmly. This girl was far wiser than her twelve years. "But it's the right thing to do."_

_Joey spoke up. "I agree with Grace. I'm never going to kill anyone."_

"_Do you promise, brother?" I asked him. He was more like my brother than my cousin after all, so the name fit._

"_Spit vow," he said. "You in, Matt?"_

_At that, I grinned, knowing he was fully genuine about this. A spit vow to us was as important as a blood one._

"_I vow never to kill anyone," Joey, Matt and I chorused. Then we spit on our hands and shook on it._

_Catherine crinkled her nose in disgust. "You two might be deep and philosophical boys, but you're still boys. And you," she stabbed a finger in Matt's direction, "are so shallow that I'm pretty sure you didn't even follow the conversation."_

_*Another Flashback*_

"_Joe!" sixteen-year-old Joey burst into my room, shouting. "Guess what?"_

"_What is it?" I asked, slamming shut my photo album. Nowadays, most of my photos were of Grace and me in there. The crush I'd had on her was still going on, although she was a year younger than me and was now one of my best friends. Yes. I had been friend-zoned. And I was regretting it more than anything._

"_Okay, normally I would comment about how you must get the guts to _ask her out_ and tell you that creating scrapbooks of her face is something that a stalker would do; but I'm way too excited." He paused to take an excited breath. "Dad just took me out for my first kill!"_

"_WHAT?!" I yelled, standing up so suddenly that my chair toppled backwards. "Joey, you _wouldn't_!"_

_Joey merely grinned more. "I did! I must admit, at first I was reluctant to try, but Dad coached me through it. I have never felt better, Joe. We've never felt anything like it before. The power and thrill you feel is just extraordinary! Come with me – I want my favourite cousin to experience it!"_

"_No." My voice was no louder than usual, but I knew that he could hear the anger and betrayal in my tone alone. "How could you kill somebody, brother?"_

_Joey shrugged. "It's not rocket science, Joe. I got a gun, aimed it at someone's head and pulled the trigger."_

"_That's not what I meant, and you know it," I glared at him fiercely. "_Why _would you kill someone willingly? Weren't you listening that day with Grace and Charlotte and the girls? Grace said that it's better to kill yourself than kill someone else and you agreed with her, remember?"_

"_Oh yeah?" Joey was showing signs of rage for the first time in a long time, and certainly never towards me. We were inseparable and what's more – I was always the impatient one, he the peaceful one. "Well, if her advice is so important to this conversation, two can play that game. Do you remember what she said just before that? She said family should always support family, whether or not they want to kill. Ring a bell, _Solomon_?!"_

_I was bristling with anger. "That doesn't apply when the killer spit vowed with his best friends never to kill anyone."_

"_Do you think I'm going to let a puny spit vow dictate my life?" he sneered. "I am stronger than that. I have duties to my father and his organization. I will take over the Circle. It's my destiny. It's your destiny too, Joe, and it's about time you face it. Together, we will eliminate anyone who gets in our way until the world will fear us. Come on. Let's go."_

"_No." My voice was steely cold._

"_No?" Joey cocked an eyebrow. "Did you just say '_no_'?"_

"_I did," I repeated. "I will never go with you. Ever."_

_His expression faltered for a moment. "But… you're my brother. You can't… you can't leave me…"_

"_I can, and I will," I said steadily. "You've chosen your path and I've chosen mine. You're no longer my brother, Joey."_

"_But…" Joey's face crumpled. He tried to grab at my shoulder as I walked past him, but I pushed him with such force that he slammed into the wall behind him._

"_YOU'RE NOTHING TO ME!" I roared. "NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME?!"_

_Then I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me._

_*Another Flashback*_

_I was still sixteen when I was hauled into Joey's new Circle office by two large men. _It's the same office that Cavan still has, a present version of my mind observed. _I was set down on the floor._

"_Good," the voice that I had been avoiding for the past five months said. The huge leather chair spun around to reveal my cousin, his fingers entwined. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the bad imitation of the villain-spinning-around-in-the-chair thing. My cousin was always one for drama._

"_What do you want?" I spat at the floor. And to think my day up until now had gone brilliant. I had finally found the nerve to ask Grace out a few days earlier and today had been the big date. I was getting all so excited. And now she was probably thinking I stood her up and I wasn't going to show up. I was already half an hour late – it was past fashionably late._

"_You to join the Circle," Joey smiled. I was shocked. Never had I seen him smile so evilly. I didn't think that the calm boy could be capable of something so… not peaceful. Of course, I had heard the stories. Like when Charlotte's boyfriend dumped her for someone else, Joey had murdered the whole family. But I had refused to believe it. Could the boy that had grown up with me as my cousin, my friend and my brother be a cold-blooded killer?_

_Impossible._

_And yet it had happened. Here was the proof, sitting in front of me._

"_No," I set my jaw stubbornly. "My answer will always be no."_

"_Oh, really?" Joey raised an eyebrow. "Because I recall you had a certain new girlfriend. It would be such a loss if she went to sleep and never woke up."_

"_You wouldn't." I lunged forward, but the two bodyguards of his took hold of my arms and pulled me backwards – none too delicately either._

"_Oh, I would and we both know it." Joey twirled a pen in his hand. "Joe, I only want you to be part of the family again. Don't be stupid for once and just make the right choice."_

_I breathed raggedly for a few moments, but we both knew what my answer would be. I sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll be a part of this hellhole."_

"_Good."_

_*Another Flashback*_

"_He is so beautiful," a nineteen year old Grace crooned, holding up our baby, wrapped in a bundle of cloth. She rocked the baby from side to side gently, singing a lullaby under her breath. She was too shy and embarrassed to sing loudly, even at home, but I knew from the showers she took when she didn't know I was home that she was an amazing singer._

"_Just as beautiful as his wonderful mother," I agreed, wrapping my arms around Grace's waist. She leant into my chest, her head sliding into place in the crook of my neck._

"_What a beautiful moment," somebody clapped slowly, before adding, "Sorry, I thought I'd just carry on the trend of calling everything beautiful. Really, I don't think it's beautiful. It's sickening. I find babies sickening. And the whole family in love thing."_

_I recognised the voice before I saw who it belonged to, though it had changed substantially over the years we had been apart. Now it lost the brusqueness to it and sounded smooth and silky, like a cunning snake's voice._

_Sensing the many guns pointed at us, I tensed as did Grace, and I growled, "Joey. Why are you still spending your time on me?"_

"_Step away from your family please, Grace dear," Joey said, ignoring my question. Breathing heavily, my girlfriend handed our baby to me and stepped slowly away. Her hands were shaking as she held them both up in the air._

"_I want to give you a late congrats-it's-a-baby-boy gift," Joey said. "Catherine dear, would you mind passing the present?"_

_We stared, wide-eyed, as Catherine Goode – the funny girl who laughed about Plato with our friends – stepped forward. Her eyes were cold and unforgiving as she looked at us, though I had no idea what we did to make her hate us._

"_Cathy… is that really… you?" Grace sounded both horrified and amazed. Catherine had been kicked out of Gallagher in senior year, when she had got pregnant. Luckily, Grace was found pregnant after graduation, as was Rachel with Matt's baby, so there was only one person expelled rather than all three of the friends – which would leave Charlotte alone at school. After Cathy got expelled, she disappeared with her baby and no one knew where she went._

"_You don't deserve to speak to me," Catherine spoke venomously. "You left me to handle my baby alone. You barely stood up for me when I got expelled. Why do you think I'd be sympathetic to your family?"_

_Grace drew back in shock. "I… I…"_

"_You nothing," Catherine finished. "Here's your present, _friend_."_

_Catherine shoved a pistol into Grace's hand. Grace looked down at it, but I could tell her brain was barely registering that it was there. She was still in shock from seeing her best friend, a killer. I had been through it too. I understood._

"_Now shoot your baby," Joey ordered, "or I will shoot your husband."_

"_Joey…" I warned, though I knew it would make no difference. I knew what was coming. It was in Grace's eyes as I looked into them desperately. It had been years, and so many things had changed, but Grace's morals were still the same. She'd still make the same choice._

_She brought the pistol to her head and shot, just as she whispered, "Joseph…"_

_Then she collapsed onto the floor in a pool of blood. I yelled her name as I rushed to her side. Knowing there was blood everywhere and not caring, I cradled her head in my lap and cradled my baby with the other arm. Tears were running down my face._

"_You know, I think she was saying my name when she died. How interesting." Joey sounded casual. No. Not Joey. From now on, he didn't deserve that nickname. He would be known to me as Cavan, and nothing else. He was no one else._

"_You!" I stood up and ran at my cousin. The tears were making my sight blurry, but I didn't care. I was seeing red. But there were hands stopping me from getting anywhere close._

_Cavan grinned maliciously, pointing at my baby boy. "You know, I was going to shoot the kid too, but I don't shoot babies or children, or anything cute, like puppies. So I'm just going to take the little bastard and get someone else to shoot him."_

"_Why would you do this to me?" I sobbed as they pinned me down and tore my crying child from the safety of my body._

_Cavan leant in closer to me, so our faces were inches apart. "One word, little cousin. Revenge."_

_*End of flashback*_

"You may hate me," Cavan said, and I repressed the memories, the ones that were so perfect it made my heart ache, and the ones that scarred my world. "But that doesn't stop us from being family. And family will always return to family in the end."

"You're nothing to me, Cavan," I glared at him intensely.

"Oh, we're on to surnames!" Cavan still managed to sound light-hearted. "Well, _Solomon,_ let me just remind you that the boy you swore to protect and your goddaughter's child has a knife at their neck. You might want to mind what you say."

Cammie frowned. "You swore to protect Zach? When?"

I sighed, feeling I owed her an explanation. "Catherine was a friend of ours. When Zach ran away from her, I swore to protect him, for Catherine's sake and for Grace."

"Who's Grace?"

"My late girlfriend," I said hesitantly. "Zach reminded me of someone. He would have been only a few months younger…"

The door burst open, saving me from any more conversation. But what came in wasn't much better. A flood of guards washed in and three against forty seemed impossible, but all of us had gone through the Circle's training (or at least I expect Zach did some sort of training programme at a young age that was similar) at some point in our lives, so we seemed to be at _least _equal to their abilities. Besides, most of them were young, and we had experience on our side too.

The stakes were high as were the odds. Cammie was a killer machine though. She managed to get through at least half of them. I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

At last, we had defeated them. But our victory was short-lived. It ended as soon as Zach said:

"Cavan and Morgan have both disappeared."


	34. Chapter 34

**Sorry I haven't updated in ages. I'm not trying to drag the cliffhanger on for ages; I'm just really busy and haven't had a chance to write. Here's the last chapter, though. And I might not update the epilogue for a while, just so you know. J**

**Zach's POV**

"We're heading to where the car is parked," I said into my communications device, running alongside Cammie and Solomon. "Do you copy?"

"Hearing you, loud and clear," Bex answered, as did the members of the other units. "What about Cavan?"

I sighed, trying to hold back the distress. "Cavan escaped, along with Morgan. We must save her as soon as the mission is complete."

"Morgan?" Grant asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Cammie said, "apparently she didn't take it well that she had to be left behind."

"You think?" Macey said sarcastically. "Now he's taken her and he's got someone to hold for ransom. I swear, when I see that girl…"

Solomon interrupted, "Threats later. Right now, we need to know if you are coming to the car location and the success of the unit."

"Dabney was shot," Grant said sadly. "And Moscowitz has a chest wound. I'm working on it, and Jonas is copying the computer files. He's also contacting the CIA for back-up, because by now it would be too late for any moles in the CIA to do any harm. We won't be meeting you."

Usually, we would have stopped for a moment of silence to remember Dabney and Moscowitz, but we were so short in time that I had to report immediately, "Alpha Unit is heading towards the car, but we were unsuccessful in taking Cavan. No matter. We can still use the car bomb without anyone inside it; there's only a smaller chance of success, because the Circle may not open the door."

Cammie was strangely silent as we ran, but I didn't look into it too much. I was too preoccupied with Macey saying, "We were successful in our task of freeing the prisoners, but Townsend had bullet wounds which forced him to stay behind. We must assume that he is dead, or will be soon."

"He is not dead," Abby insisted, her voice breaking at the last word. "I swear, Macey, I got a signal from his comms unit. I heard something, I'm sure of it."

"Abby," Macey said slowly, "I know we all heard something, but it sounded more like a gun than speaking. Then the line went dead. He must have been shot." When she next spoke, it wasn't to Abby. "Look, just know that we'll be with you to see the car bomb."

"We were also successful," Rachel said. "We took hold of the armoury, disabled all the weapons, took all the ammo and got out safely."

"Not all of us!" Bex blurted.

"Bex, we were going to tell her in person," Rachel hissed.

Bex sounded like she wasn't sorry at all when she said, "Sorry. But she deserves to know. Macey, Nick died from a chest wound."

"No!" Macey choked. "No, he isn't dead. He can't be!"

"I saw him die in front of me."

Macey hadn't given up hope yet. "Did you check his pulse?"

"There wasn't enough time" –

"Then there's still hope!" Macey exclaimed fiercely.

Bex sighed. "Macey, you're in denial. Even if he was still alive, the Circle would have worked their way into the armoury by now. He's dead."

"I'm sorry to break this up," I interrupted. "And I feel the loss of my good friend, but we have to keep moving. Beta Unit, are you coming to the location?"

"Yes," Dr Fibbs said. "We'll be there."

"Good," I replied as we began climbing up a ladder. It was grimy and hard to hold onto, but somehow we managed. Sunlight exploded into my eyes as we emerged out of the ground. We were surrounded by tall corn crops. We could get lost in here, especially because of the similarity between each of the corn stalks. Cammie brought out a compass and pointed north-west.

"This way," she said, slashing the corn in front of her as she walked. We were creating a path that could easily be followed, but seeing as no one from the Circle knew where we had hidden the car, we figured that we were reasonable safe.

Soon enough, we found the car, beneath a layer of corn – just where we had hidden it earlier. We stopped a few metres away from it. When Cammie first laid eyes on it, she smiled widely and pecked me on the lips. She whispered, "I love you, no matter what."

She ran towards the car, leaving me staring after her in puzzlement. I expected her to inspect it, but instead, she opened the door and sat down in the driver's seat. I figured that it was okay. After all, she was always curious, and the bombs hadn't been activated yet, so we were good.

But then she slammed the door shut and spoke to Liz through her comms unit. "Liz, we're ready, activate the bombs."

"I've activated them," Liz said unknowingly and I choked back a sob. "What's wrong, Zach?"

"Cammie's inside the car." My voice turned desperate. "Liz, please! You have to deactivate the bombs. We can't let Cammie go on this suicide mission!"

Liz sounded frantic in my ear. "Zach, I would, but once activated, there's no going back! There's no way to switch the bombs off."

Cammie was looking at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, Zach. If we had Cavan or if we had any other way, I wouldn't be in here. You and I both know that the Circle will realise that this is a trap if the car has no driver. The plan will fail. That's why I'm sitting in here."

"Cammie, please don't," I pleaded.

"It's too late now anyway. You heard Liz. There's no going back."

By now, the Beta and Gamma Unit had joined Solomon and me. They all gasped once they realised how Cammie was inside the car.

"Don't do anything to the car, Liz," I instructed our friend in New York. "We have to get her out somehow."

**Cammie's POV**

"Zach, I can still control the car manually," I said softly. Breathing deeply to keep control over my screaming mind, I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and slammed my foot down on the accelerator before I could think twice. Nothing happened. I blinked in surprise and tried again. And again. And again. Still nothing. I was half relieved and half despaired to say, "It isn't working."

"That's because I disabled the engine," a voice said from behind our operatives. Everyone turned around to face him, but being in the car meant I could see him without needing to do that.

Nick.

Macey rushed towards Nick and flew into his arms, sobbing with joy, but he tossed her to the muddy ground easily. She gazed up at him with confusion, hurt and, even after he'd cast her aside, adoration. However, he wasn't paying her any attention in return; he was staring at me and his eyes were filled with hate. Somehow, this new side of Nick seemed familiar to me…

"You're dead," Bex declared. "I saw you die, right in front of me."

Nick smiled. "You must have forgotten to check my pulse. Knifing a few blood bags under my shirt did the trick."

"Why would you fake your own death?" Macey's voice was shaky. "Why would you do that to me?"

"Poor Macey," he laughed. "You must have been _so upset _when I 'died'. That's just too bad, because I wouldn't give a crap if you died."

"You played me?" her voice broke, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from his. The rest of us couldn't believe it. Macey, _the _Macey McHenry, got played? But even worse, Nick had been the one to play her?

Nick shrugged. "How else was I supposed to infiltrate your little group?"

Grant gaped, "So you're… you're a mole?"

"Of course I am, but I'd advise you all not to shoot me. We have you surrounded." Then Nick raked a finger in my direction, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had worked with that hand so many times before… but who did it belong to? "Really, I thought the _glorious _Killer Chameleonwould have worked out who I am by now. It's rather shameful to think that you still haven't figured out my identity yet because" –

"You're Hunter," I gasped. The Hunter was someone I had considered to be my closest field agent colleague. We had spent years going on jobs together – there were so many of them that we were practically partners.

He grinned and clapped his hands. "Well done, Cameron. My codename is Hunter. Now does anyone want to try my real name?" No one answered, so he continued, "My first name really is Nicholas, Nick for short. And my surname? That's Solomon, his son." He pointed at Solomon, our Solomon.

The colour drained out of Solomon's face as he sucked in a hard breath. "You. Impossible. No… you can't be. Cavan killed you."

Nick smiled. "No. Cavan needed an heir to take over the Circle. Preferably of Cavan blood. And he didn't want to have his own children, because children make people go soft. Just look at Cameron and her daughter for example. So he kept me and paid Catherine to oversee my childhood. Whenever she was doing jobs (which was most days), she left me to do training courses with her son." He pointed at Zach. "Of course, you didn't know who I was. I was known to you as 'a friend' – nothing more. You had no idea what my name was or why I was training with you, but you learnt to accept that you would never know. It came as quite a shock when you ran away. I was really quite disappointed.

"Then years later, Cameron arrived at the Circle with a baby – strangely under Catherine's protection." Now he was talking to me. "You changed everything. Suddenly, I wasn't the best agent out there. I was second at everything. Catherine's attention wasn't fixed on me anymore. Cavan didn't even notice me. Even though you aren't Cavan blood, he wanted _you _to be the heir. Even after you turned the job offer down, he had it written in his will. Even when you formed Operation Crushed Circle, he was reluctant to believe it. He's soft when it comes to you, just like parents are to their kids." Nick's voice became louder, more angry. "_I_ was supposed to be heir! _I _was supposed to be the best out there! _I _was supposed to be Cavan's favourite!"

I laughed dryly, which I wasn't sure was such a good idea. "You think _I'm _Cavan's favourite? Hunter, you and I both know that's not true. He doesn't trust me, and he never has."

"That's what _you _think," Nick muttered, but then raised his voice. "Now, it's time for my revenge. I am going to kill each and every operative in your little mission while you watch, and don't even think about opening that door. My agents will kill you before your hands even touch it."

**Morgan's POV**

"Now it's time for my revenge," Nick declared. "I am going to kill each and every operative in your little mission while you watch, and don't even think about opening that door. My agents will kill you before your hands even touch it."

"What agents, Uncle Nick?" Arianne asked stepping forward. I followed her into the small clearing that everyone had made in the corn crops.

Jonas, Mom and Dad all shot us murderous looks, like they wanted to say, _Get back – right NOW. _But we both ignored them. I feigned an innocent look, "Yes, _Uncle _Nick. Pray, do tell us what agents you think will kill Mom if she moves. Because, I don't seem to see any of them."

We both held up our guns. Nick gaped. "You killed my agents? But… you're only children! You can't kill people!"

"No, we knocked them out with our tranquiliser darts, one by one," Arianne started and I finished, "because we're not murderers. After all, we're only _children. _We can't do anything, like saving Operation Crushed Circle's sorry butt. With a little help."

_*Flashback*_

"_Okay, kids," Kat shouted over the whirring of the helicopter's engine. "Where is the car exactly?"_

"_It should be camouflaged," I yelled back. "But just look for a break in the corn field. They've only covered the car with corn stalks, which means that they won't be upright and they won't be affected by the wind."_

_We all scanned the fields below us. It took some time, but with all four of us looking, we found it soon enough. It was a miracle that we had convinced them to help us in the first place. Without them, we wouldn't have the Sikorsky S-64 Skycrane at all (obviously they stole it), let alone the fact that the plane needed a pilot and a co-pilot (and a rear-facing observer – though we could deal without that one) and Arianne can't fly a plane. Catherine taught me how to last year. At the time, I thought it was only because she rebelliously hated laws and rules. Turns out, it was a life requirement for the daughter of the Killer Chameleon._

"_So I take it that I have to go down the rope?" Hale peered down and gulped._

_I laughed. "We're ten and we'll have to do it too!"_

_Kat shook her head, amused, and directed the helicopter to descend slowly. "Why did we ever agree to this?"_

_No one answered; we were all looking at Hale expectantly. When we were low enough, he fumbled for the latch on the helicopter's door and climbed out onto the rope. I clambered into his now empty seat, taking over the role of co-pilot. Then we watched as Hale edged along, his hands gripping onto the copter literally with his life in them. A few seconds after he went out of sight, we could see him descending down a rope hanging under the plane. He landed gracefully on top of the real car bomb._

_Kat was staring at her husband, sick with relief that he had got down successfully. I felt kind of guilty for bringing the couple into this mess, but it was too late to do anything now. Hale brought out five hooks and attached each of them to the car. Then he signalled at us with thumbs up to bring the car up. It took a hazardously long time; it didn't help when the copter would occasionally shudder like the rope was too weak or when the rope swung from side to side with the car's weight. But finally we felt the steady click vibrate through the plane as the car was successfully fastened to the plane._

_By now, Hale was right underneath, so we couldn't see him. Kat was breathing in shallow breaths, trying to push away any bad thoughts away from her mind. Glancing at me as though she only just realised I was there, she said, "Sorry. I'm usually okay with risks. But with our second child on the way… I just don't want them to grow up without their dad."_

"_That's understandable," I nodded with a comforting smile. At least I _hoped _it was comforting. I wasn't really an expert._

_Arianne seemed to miss the point of what Kat was saying. "You have a kid?!" she exploded with excitement. From that one day of school we shared, I gathered that anything to do with DNA and genetics could have her transfixed for hours._

"_Yes," Kat replied with a faint smile, "our little boy."_

"_He," a voice came from the doorway, "is as dashing as I am which is almost impossible. But then, he _is _a mini me after all."_

_Hale was grinning as he hauled himself inside. "Your turn, kids. Have fun."_

_Chewing on my lower lip, I gave the seat back to him and got ready to leave the safety of the helicopter's interior. While Kat and Hale would lower the bomb to another location, our job was to lower a fake car to the old location, cover the car in corn and find our way into the Circle's base._

_As we stood on the car feeling the ground approach, I wondered what the sight would look like to an onlooker. Two identical black sports cars hanging from under a disfigured looking helicopter, one of them being lowered into a corn field with two ten year old girls sanding on its bonnet. But hopefully the only people around to see us were the Circle and they were too preoccupied with Operation Crushed Circle to notice. Hopefully they had no idea that there'd be another operation at work too._

_*End of flashback*_

"You see," I explained, "the car that Mom is sitting in right now is the fake. We took the real one somewhere else." Ignoring everyone's horrified looks, I opened the door. "See? As for Cavan, he's dealt with too. He's sitting in the car bomb, just as mom planned."

_*Flashback*_

_They were talking about 'Grace' or someone – I wasn't really concentrating. I had to keep alert, ready for any opportunity at all to turn the tables. But it was no use. Cavan wasn't distracted at all._

_The conversation was rudely interrupted when the door slammed open and the room got a lot more crowded. The exchanged glances between her parents and Joe Solomon clearly meant that they were not happy about it. Not me. This timing was perfect. While they were locked in hand-to-hand combat (which was impressive I was sure, though I wasn't fixed on it), I was watching Cavan for any openings. There! He had lowered the knife from my neck inattentively, too whipped up in the action to remember me. Now I had to be quick; if I was too slow, the knife would be against my neck before I could say "damn". He was smiling faintly at my mom, half proud and half sad, like he was gratified by her fighting but he knew she wasn't his to be proud of._

_I surveyed everything that was within my reach, recalling one of Bex's clever combat tips: _'Anything can be your weapon.' _Without hesitation, I grabbed a pen off the desk and stabbed it into an unaware Cavan's hand. He yelped, more in surprise than pain, but luckily it wasn't loud enough to capture my parents' attention. As the knife fell from his fingers, I caught it with my other hand and brought it up to his neck, which was pretty hard to reach._

"_Move towards your emergency escape tunnel," I hissed, "and don't try anything funny. And keep quiet. And move quickly. Oh, and don't draw attention. Or else… or else, um, I'll use this knife."_

_Boy, I need to work on this threatening stuff, I thought._

_Cavan said smugly, "I don't know if you know, little girl, but they disabled my fingerprint scanner."_

"_Not anymore." I pointed. He glanced at it and looked genuinely surprised to see it aglow and ready to scan. Savour this moment, I thought, because this is probably one of the very few times he has pulled that face._

_He said, "Don't you want to give me over to your parents?"_

"_A) I'm not stupid," I said as we shuffled towards the escape hatch. "B) I know about your mole. C) As a result of B, I'm not working for my parents. D) I don't like you. Just so you know. And E) I'm not stupid. I thought I'd repeat it."_

_By the time I finished talking, we were successfully inside the escape tunnel, the door swinging shut behind us._

_*End of flashback*_

Nick's eyes darted around anxiously, realising that he no longer had the upper hand. There was nothing stopping anyone from attacking him now. And that is exactly what they did. Within seconds, they had removed all his weapons and were striking at him, like hyenas preying on a broken bird. It seemed like their intentions were to kill, but Macey and Solomon had thrown themselves over him.

"Knock him out, if you must," Solomon's voice was shaking. "But don't kill my son."

"Use this," I handed Macey my tranquiliser gun. She took it and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she pulled the trigger.

Mom was smiling at me proudly as she put a protective arm around my shoulders. "I'm so proud of you, M."

"S'okay," I mumbled back. Needless to say, it was odd to have my mom not so strictly professional. But I liked it. It felt good.

**Third Person's POV**

A sleek black sports car sped towards an ordinary looking farmhouse with a man tied and gagged in the driver's seat, crushing a path of corn as it went. When it got to the farmhouse, the car didn't stop at the driveway though. It carried straight through the door, shattering the glass windows on either side with the impact. Strangely, the house was packed with people and many of them had to leap out of the way as the car smashed its way through like an indestructible army tank

An outsider might have thought the man in the sports car had been mugged and tied up and now his car was out of control, and that it had interrupted some sort of massive reunion of a serious-faced, black-clad family. They never would have guessed that those in black were a bunch of serial killers in a terrorist organization; or that board members of that organization were in the basement; or that the man in the car was the leader of them all. Neither would they have guessed that the car was being controlled by a woman in a hospital bed in New York; or that the car was filled with explosives; or that in under two minutes, the entire house and the people inside would be going down in flames.

The car slowed to a stop in the middle of the room and the unknowing killers began to crowd around it, all of them talking at once.

"It just came out of nowhere," one of them was exclaiming.

"Wow, nice ride," another whistled, running a hand along the bonnet. "Too bad we'll never get a car like this. The board members are cheap assholes."

"Wait a second, is that guy _Cavan_?" a man gasped. They all crowded even closer to see, pushing and shoving.

Someone was saying, "Oh my God, it _is._"

"I never meant what I said about cheap assholes!" the guy who wanted the car grovelled, sounding terrified. "I mean… it wasn't me!"

A woman frowned. "We should help him out of there. He looks delirious."

"Mmb," the man inside the car was trying to say something through his gag. "Mmmmb."

"I have no idea what he's saying. Let's open the door."

"I don't know…" One wise person said doubtfully. "Maybe this is a tr" –

She never got to finish the last word. 'Trap.'

A distance away, a cluster of twenty or so people stood and watched the explosion as a boom resounded in their ears. They could see a flash of orange, before smoke rose up in a huge cloud.

Two blonde girls, one with light blonde hair and the other with a brown streaks in it too, shared an excited glance, and high-fived, relishing in their shared victory. The one with green eyes grinned at the one with blue eyes and laughed, "We are _so _good."

A black-haired woman with fashionable clothes sat on the ground, the head of her unconscious boyfriend on her lap. Tears ran down her model-pretty face and splashed onto her boyfriend's cheeks as she realised this could be the last time she'd see him before he got put behind bars. Somehow, though, she managed to smile as she glanced at the burning farmhouse in the distance.

Kneeling beside the famous woman was another man, older than her by about twenty years. He was fingering the unconscious man's hand tenderly, his mouth curved into a small smile, like he was remembering some fond memory of his late girlfriend and their lost baby son. But his sad eyes showed that he knew he could never go back to those days, not when his son had was someone he didn't even know and his girlfriend would never come back – ever.

Another woman, this one the same age as the older man, sat next to him and laid a hand over his in a sign of comfort. As someone whose own husband had died too, she understood his pain. Plus, she had been the girlfriend's best friend so she had grieved with him.

Her sister, who had been staring at the explosion blankly like she was thinking of her ex-boyfriend's death rather than the actual explosion, jumped to her feet with her hand pressed to the device in her ear.

"Edward?" she breathed, disbelievingly. "Edward, is it really you? Where are you?" She heard an answer come through the comms unit and laughed. "The women's toilet? Really? You pervert."

She ran away from the rest of the group, towards the secret tunnel that led to the underground base, desperate to see her ex-boyfriend again.

Soon afterwards, two men emerged from the direction she came. One had Greek features and a very muscly body; the other had glasses and looked hotter than the average geek. An exotic looking woman saw the Greek god and ran into his arms. They grinned at each other, both knowing what would happen in the next moments. Their smashed their lips together, following their trend of getting hot and heavy whenever they could.

The two girls groaned simultaneously at the public display of affection. The man with glasses put an arm around the light blonde girl and said, "Come on, Arianne. We should get back to New York to see your mother."

"Do you think she'll be proud of me?" the girl stared up hopefully at her father.

He pulled out the unit in his ear and fixed it into the girl's one. "Ask her yourself."

The girl held her father's hand. As they walked away, she looked at her friend over her shoulder and mouthed, "See you at school!"

The other girl waved a hand and nodded, although she was unsure whether the first girl meant their school in New York or the school they were going to go to the next year, a certain special all-girls school in Virginia. With nothing to do now, the girl bounded towards her parents. She stopped mid-step, realising she was interrupting something special. Ordinarily she wouldn't care much for kissing, but she was intrigued. She had never seen her parents (her mother in particular) look so in love before.

The mother was leaning into the man's chest, and he had his arms wrapped around her waist. She had her chin tilted up so their eyes could lock on each other's. He leant down to touch her lips, a kiss so soft and tender that the kiss was barely there at all, but to them it meant the world. Then the woman nestled her head into the crook of his neck and noticing her daughter standing awkwardly beside them, she beckoned her over. The family turned to face the smoke and behind it, the sun setting into the beautiful horizon.

**THE END**


End file.
